


Goodbyes

by DoePameron



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Death, Disordered Eating, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Loosely Canon Compliant, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Slow Burn, everyone here is emotionally exhausted, it wasnt meant to be slow burn but then i accidentally planned like 36 chapters, oc is a princess but sh it isn't as cliched as you think I promise, potential for smut we'll see, the Big Sad, the eating isnt a huge thing but it's relevant for plot reasons and i dont want to trigger anyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoePameron/pseuds/DoePameron
Summary: Princess Elisabeth of Hynestia was alone, now. Her family were gone, her palace in pieces around her. But Poe Dameron was there, wasn't he? Poe was always there, until he wasn't. If you're looking for a happy story, you're in the wrong place.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> basically i learned to knit and rewatched all of reign in 3 days and lost my will to live; this fic is the result of the meltdown that followed. enjoy !!

It was taking too long, he thought, for all of the rioters to leave the wreckage of what used to be Hynestia's palace. They'd gotten what they came for, mostly. The palace had been tactically destroyed, the walls reduced to mere rubble and bricks scattered across the floor, and the heads of the Royals had been displayed proudly on spikes.

"She's not here," a man with a lit torch yelled through the smoke. He'd been responsible for at least half of the fires that had ravaged this castle. "They must have taken her somewhere." Poe was becoming restless, leaning his back against a crumbling wall and praying he wouldn't be caught.

"Or," a woman, anger destroying her youthful features, said, "her body's buried somewhere under all of this." The pilot, pulling his coat tighter around himself, hoped that the girl they were looking for was indeed buried somewhere amongst the wreckage, but it wasn't a body that he intended to retrieve. 

"What kind of damage can a sickly little princess do, anyway? I say we leave her. If we're lucky, the smoke will kill her before long." Poe was losing track of who was speaking, losing track of who might have been in charge of all of this. It didn't matter, really, who had been responsible. Either way, the Hynestian Royals were dead, their heads taken by the hands of their own people, and his General hadn't been much concerned about _why,_ nor had she been interested in helping them stabilise their planet. What she _had_ been quite particular about, however, were the lives of the Hynestian heirs. He'd already seen two out of the three princesses' detached heads, but there was still hope for the third. 

"She's right," said the man with the torch, the one who had declared the Princess missing, "She won't survive whether we take her head tonight or not. We got what we wanted; the monarchy is gone." The pilot's chest had grown painful throughout the discussion; it concerned him to think he may be looking for a _sickly_ , injured princess, and that the chances of finding her alive at all dwindled with every second the traitors spent casually discussing the girl's imminent death.

"Scout the perimeter one more time, and then we'll leave." Poe was beginning to believe that the man with the torch was their leader, and his stomach churned as he stared into the dead eyes of the former Queen. He wanted to promise her, silently, that he would find her daughter, that he was going to get her out alive, but he didn't truly know what he was looking for. He couldn't make any promises at all, to a dead woman or otherwise. 

He found himself, in the silent minutes that followed, wishing he could have his droid scanning for lifeforms already, wishing he could get a head-start. The Princess was either dead or she was not, and Poe was becoming impatient while waiting to find out. BB-8, however, made far too much noise to keep them both covert, and he wouldn't be use nor ornament to anyone if he were discovered and murdered. 

"She's gone," one of the men said, followed by a woman declaring her belief that the girl had perished in one of the fires. Poe grit his teeth, sickened by a possibility that he'd not yet considered. He didn't much like searching for charred bodies. The man with the torch, the leader, nodded his head once and the group seemingly departed. Poe stayed frozen in place for a few moments longer, letting out a harsh breath when he deemed the traitors far enough away. 

"Alright, buddy," he whispered, unsure of why he'd kept his voice so low, "You can start looking, now." He thanked the Force, briefly, that the Hynestians didn't have access to the kind of technology that he did. If anyone was going to find that girl alive, it was going to be him.

He kicked debris from the tops of his boots as he stood, following his droid around the wreckage. His heart broke, if only for a second, for all that had been lost that day. While he'd never even _known_ of Hynestia prior to this assignment, it was never pleasant to see a family of any stature mutilated in such a manner. And the girl, he thought, if he ever found her alive, had lost _everything_. 

After a while, BB-8 chirped frantically, rolling circles in the dirt around Poe's feet. "What is it?" His heart leapt to his throat, in either anxiety or excitement. Both, perhaps. The droid disappeared behind a pile of debris, not ten strides away from where the man with the torch had been standing. When BB-8 began smashing his head into the rocks, Poe rushed towards the pile and began tearing pieces away. 

When he saw her, the girl, her chest _moving_ , he didn't have time to think before his fingers were wrapped around her arms, dragging her from the burned rubble. His ears never registered her sharp gasp as she clawed at his fingers and scrambled across the floor to back herself into a corner. The girl, the Princess, covered her ears with her arms, tucking one knee up to her face and leaning her side against a crumbling wall. Her dress was torn, Poe noted, and singed, but she was still visibly a Princess. _That's going to be a problem_ , he thought. 

"If-" she said, her voice too quiet and coarse for the effect she'd intended, "If you're going to kill me, I only ask you let it be quick." She kept herself curled in that defensive little ball, her left leg angled oddly to the side of her, while she spoke. "I think I've suffered enough, tonight." She tensed up, her tremors causing debris to tumble from the half-demolished wall she'd chosen to support herself with. 

"I'm not Hynestian," Poe said, slowly, unwilling to approach the girl just yet. He felt guilty, knowing that she thought he'd intended to take her head and display it on a pole, the way those men and women had done to her family. "I'm with The Resistance," he told her, gesturing towards the emblem he'd stitched onto the arm of his jacket. The girl's body tensed up once again, her fingernails digging harshly into her skin. 

Elisabeth, the youngest Princess of Hynestia, or former Princess of what Hynestia had once been, rocked gently back and forth for a moment before forcing herself to uncurl her body and flatten her back against the wall. Poe was all too aware of the room that had once stood in their place; it seemed to be a reading room, of sorts. Too small to be a library, but clearly intended for study. He wondered what kind of books had been stored there, staring down at the charred pages. Real paper books weren't something he could remember having ever come across, and now that he'd been given the chance to see them, they were all burnt. 

"The Princess of Alderaan sent you," she said, a sob stuck at the back of her throat. It had been a long time since Poe had heard Leia referred to as the Princess of anything, but he nodded his head slowly, lowering himself into a crouch to reduce his size. He didn't want to intimidate her further. 

"I have orders to take you to her." He was trying to speak gently, both to preserve their stealth and to refrain from startling the poor, broken girl. Elisabeth nodded her head, her body still shaking violently as she tucked her knee back up to her chest, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the pilot standing before her. "Your family," he said, hanging his head in remembrance of those he'd lost himself, "wanted her to care for you." She nodded her head again, the intricate braids in her hair falling around her face. Watching her face crumble as she pressed her nose to her knees, glancing back up at Poe, his heart broke for the girl. He tried to offer her a hand, but she flinched, scrambling backwards as if she could somehow disappear into the wall. Her eyes had grown wide and startled. 

"I won't touch you," Poe told her, frantically, straightening his back and hiding his hands behind his back. "I won't come any closer if you don't want me to." Elisabeth nodded her head, again, and by the look of her face she'd have crumbled into a fit of tears had she tried to speak properly again. It seemed all of the composure the young Princess could muster had been used up already. "Would you like me to comm the General? Princess Leia? You can speak with her, if it would help at all." BB-8 made noises of agreement from his spot behind his master. She shook her head, the most violent motion she'd made since launching herself away from his grasp. 

"I don't-" Her voice cracked and she clawed at torn pieces of her dress. She didn't want to speak to any more _strangers_ , especially ones who'd known her mother. Elisabeth's chest ached, and her fingers throbbed as she dug her fingernails into her palms in an effort to rescue what was left of her dress from her fiddling. "I do not wish to speak with the Princess." She wished to open a book and read a story about a place, about people, _far_ away from Hynestia. But all of the books were gone, weren't they? The stories had perished with her family. It was the man's turn to nod his head, now, slowly leaning backwards to rest on his hands, stretching one leg out in front of him while he rested his cheek on the other, a knee tucked up to his face. She had been eyeing the Resistance emblem patched onto his jacket for quite some time, now, but he didn't mention it. 

"I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, alright? But it's not safe to stay here much longer." He'd nearly referred to the girl as _Princess_ , but thought better of himself. She was the Princess of a kingdom that no longer stood. He didn't need to taunt her with the fact. She soundlessly nodded her head, but made no effort to move. "Is it alright if I come closer?" She locked her eyes with his, then, the first time she'd looked at him _properly_. She chewed on her lower lip briefly before touching the tip of her tongue to the top one in thought. 

"Yes," she said, much more quietly than she'd spoken previously. Poe stood, tentatively, one of his hands outstretched every so slightly ahead of him as he stepped towards the girl. 

"I'm Poe," he said, with a sad smile, crouching slowly in front of her and resting a hand on her shoulder. The girl flinched, squeezing her eyes shut so tightly that Poe thought it must have been painful for her, so he moved away slightly.

"Elisabeth," she said, staring at the hand that Poe had reached out to her. She reached out her own shaking hand and placed it on his, allowing him to curl his fingers around her own, offering his other hand for extra support. "I don't think I can feel my leg," she whispered, the tears she hadn't yet finished shedding still very much evident in her voice. He wasn't sure whether he was feeling dread or annoyance, but the sheer coldness of the pit in his chest concerned him greatly. She couldn't feel her leg. Poe took a deep breath, squeezing the girl's hand and giving her one curt nod. 

"Do you think you can stand?" Elisabeth shook her head, a sob that she'd tried to hold back wracking her shoulders. They didn't have time for this and Poe was growing frantic. If just _one_ of those rioters had decided to return, both of their lives could be at risk. "You gotta help me help you, Elisabeth. Alright? I just need you to hold on real tight." He tucked one of his hands under her elbow, leaving the other firmly wrapped around her fingers, and offered her a sympathetic smile as she dug her fingernails into the top of his arm. His heart sank, realising how little force she was able to muster, and he pulled her to her feet himself, steadying her with his grip on her elbow. She stumbled into him, her left leg refusing to support any weight. She was only a tiny thing, much too small for her years and arguably malnourished, but there was only so much weight one little leg could handle at the best of times. "I just need to get you back to my ship and everything will be alright from there. Alright? Everything will be alright from there." Poe didn't know who his words were intended for, but hoped they'd offer her some comfort. He felt no comfort at all.

"Your ship..." The girl looked drunken and dazed, her one good leg buckling underneath her own weight once again. Poe tightened his grip on her elbow, trying desperately not to injure her further. "How far...?"

"A mile and a half, maybe." He grit his teeth, crouching slightly to wind the Princess' arm over his shoulders. He didn't want to have to carry the girl, if only to preserve her dignity. She'd lost so much already, and Poe had no business making her feel even weaker. On the other hand, though, she'd endured debilitating injuries from the looks of her, and he had no business making any of them worse, either. Elisabeth nodded her head, the same soaked, heartbroken expression on her face. He wasn't sure whether the tears had made her appear younger, or if the situation itself had increased her vulnerability to a point of innocence, but Poe had been under the impression that the youngest of the Princesses, Elisabeth, was twenty-two standard years of age. The broken little thing in front of him did not look twenty-two standard years of age. 

The pair barely made it past what had once been the castle walls before Elisabeth's knee gave out again, and she winced when Poe's fingers brushed her skin through a tear in her dress as he gripped her waist to keep her from falling. She was still sobbing, silently, the movement of her shoulders distressing Poe to no end. "Elisabeth," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I need you to put on a brave face, now, alright?" He felt diabolical, asking her to calm down and stop crying after everything that had just happened to her, but he wasn't sure what else he could do. "I have _got_ to get you off of this planet, and I've got to do it quickly." He was growing sick of the way she nodded her head like a scared little girl; his stomach churned each and every time, his heart sinking to his feet. "They wouldn't want you to die here, Princess." Momentarily, Elisabeth looked dead behind the eyes, glancing over her shoulder at the ruins of her former life. "Don't look," he said to her, gently, not wanting her to see her family's heads or the torn remnants of her childhood. "Be _strong_. Do this for your _family_. Alright?" He prayed that this would be the final heartbroken movement of her head he'd have to witness for a long while. 

Elisabeth straightened her working leg and raised blistered fingers to her face, swiping at the tears. She'd likely not stop crying for some time, yet, but Poe could handle that. What he couldn't handle were the violent sobs and soul destroying whimpers, or the periodic collapsing. "You're right," she whispered, barely audible over the few small fires that had yet to cease burning. The Princess jutted out her chin slightly and set her mouth in a firm line that only faltered for a moment. The tears didn't stop falling from her eyes. "We need to get to your ship." Poe offered her a sad smile, tightening his grip on her waist while internally complaining about the dull ache in his hip from crouching to support her. Her skin, bitter from the cold, made Poe's fingertips burn, and he wished he'd thought to bring extra clothing, extra jackets and cloaks and hats. It had never occurred to him that whoever he managed to rescue, whether it be one princess or three, wouldn't be prepared for an escape in such extreme colds. 

It took longer than it should have, longer than Poe had wanted it to take, to get back to the small freighter he'd hidden amongst pine trees and cliffs. Elisabeth's tears had begun to freeze on her face as they mixed with what Poe assumed was her own blood, her lashes clumping together with frost. She was freezing, he realised, and she'd been growing weaker gradually as the walk progressed. The ship was now, however, less than thirty paces away from them. Thirty more paces and he could let her _rest_. 

"Can I lift you?" Poe asked through grit teeth as they approached the ship's entrance. "I don't want to drag you into the ship." He still spoke quietly despite being far enough away from society to remain unheard. He didn't want to startle her; she'd been _startled_ enough. The Princess nodded once, nothing but pain wrought all over he face, and weakly lifted her free arm to wrap around Poe's shoulders. "I need to look at your injuries, too. Is that alright?" He daren't look at her as he wound his arm behind her knees and lifted her to his chest. The way her head lolled lazily, not quite in time with the rest of her body, concerned him greatly. He'd been sent there for three Princesses. He couldn't return with _none_ of them. 

Poe set the girl down on the embedded bunk in the ship's barely passable living quarters before shoving loose curls out of his eyes. He'd been needing a haircut for quite some time now, but life had gotten in the way all too much recently. He wrapped a blanket over her shoulders, mumbling, "You must be freezing." He _knew_ she was freezing. He fumbled around in a small compartment built into the wall for a moment, muttering about warm clothes and frozen fingers before placing a pile of what looked like men's loungewear on the bunk beside the girl. He pulled up a stool usually utilised for working on BB-8, who had quietly tucked himself away in the cockpit, and sat directly in front of the Princess. "Your leg," he said, softly. "Can I touch your leg?" Elisabeth looked as though she'd lost the will to live, lost the ability to argue against anything Poe needed to do. She just stared at him, vacantly, and all he could think was at least she'd stopped that _nodding_. 

"You can touch my leg." Poe had never been much of a medic, but he'd had basic first aid training. He wished, for a second, that he'd listened more avidly during top-up training sessions as he gently pushed the torn skirt up past Elisabeth's knee. Elisabeth took her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before placing the tip of her tongue on the top one, furrowing her brow as though she was concentrating. She curled her fingers around the hem of her skirt, holding it in place above her knee, her arms tensed and shaking as they'd been before. Her leg, the right one, shook violently, her toes barely planted on the floor. "Can you feel this?" He asked gently, applying pressure to various spots on her leg and watching what little hope Elisabeth had left behind her eyes fade away. She gave a slight shake of her head, her features contorting as her shoulders caved into a sob once again. Poe brushed his fingers over her lower thigh, where Elisabeth had been clutching the skirt, but flinched away when the girl gasped. "Can you- How far... Can you feel your hip?" She stared at him blankly. "I need you to press on it for me, alright? As hard as you can." She nodded, a shadow of confidence haunting her face, her heartbroken little face. The girl obliged, pressing her free hand to her left hip and applying as much pressure as she possibly could. She shook her head, quickly but with barely any motion, and proceeded to peel skin from her lower lip with her nails. Poe nodded, wordlessly. "Okay. I'm gonna get you washed up, alright? Clean that cut on your face and these scrapes on your knees, and then we can be on our way." She was probably nearing apathy by then, he thought. He'd asked her so many times for permission to touch her, to check her injuries, to help her in any way, and she'd always said yes. In truth, she likely just wanted to go to sleep outside in the snow and pretend that none of this had been real, if only for a while. 

Poe stood from the stool slowly, still preoccupied with ensuring he didn't scare the Princess, and reached for the medkit he'd tucked underneath the bunk, attached to the underside panel. "This might sting," he told her, removing a sterile cloth from it's container, dousing it in alcohol, and tentatively raising it to Elisabeth's face. He wanted to allow her to wash properly, wanted her to feel as human as she possibly could given the circumstances, but the poor thing couldn't even stand alone and it was evident that she was in no way comfortable with him seeing anything beyond her knees, pure intentions or not. She'd have to wait until he could have a proper medic team care for her. 

Elisabeth winced as the alcoholic cloth made contact with the jagged cut, left behind by falling debris during the disaster. "I'm sorry," Poe mumbled, his expression growing more pained by the second. The unfounded guilt he felt over this entire situation was inexplicable. Elisabeth shook her head.

"It's better than being numb, isn't it?" Her voice was steadier now, though not quite calm. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it is."


	2. Chapter 2

Trying to give the girl some privacy, Poe had turned away after cleaning her cuts, but listening to the girl struggling to change her own clothes, her limp foot thudding against the floor several times, was nearly painful for him. He wanted to turn around and offer some assistance, to get her through this as quickly as possible, but he knew he couldn't. The pilot fixed his gaze firmly on the wall, planting his feet in place and gritting his teeth as Elisabeth let out a pained groan.

"I can't-" Elisabeth choked out around a gasp. "I need help." She sounded close to tears. They could have been sad tears, or frustrated tears, or angry tears. At this point, they were all the same. Poe tentatively turned his head to glance over his shoulder, only to find the girl wearing the trousers underneath her dress, the sweater strewn across the bed. "My dress," she said, quietly, averting her gaze to the floor. He turned, properly, relieved to see her at least partially dressed, and nodded his head, moving to sit beside her on the bed. She'd still not managed to stand alone, yet. 

"What do I need to do?" He asked softly, staring blankly at the maze of ribbon laced into the girl's corset. She'd peeled off the outer bodice of the dress herself, but removing a corset sans waiting ladies was never easy _without_ debilitating injuries. Elisabeth moved her dark hair so that it fell over only one shoulder, tugging on the ends of tiny braids while preparing herself, mentally, to speak again. 

"Just..." She coughed, once, raising her hand to her mouth and widening her eyes. "Could you undo the knots? And loosen the strings?" Poe nodded his head, slowly moving his fingers towards the knotted ribbon between the Princess' shoulder blades. His skin almost looked pale in comparison to hers, he realised while pulling gently on the loose strings. Elisabeth jumped, slightly, raising her arms to her chest to keep the corset flush against her skin. She'd asked him to loosen the strings, not take it off. 

"Are you alright?" His voice, his breath on her neck, made the girl wince again, snapping her head to the side to look at him. She nodded her head, dark brown eyes sharp with what Poe could only assume was some kind of _humiliation_ or _shyness._ He took the Princess' gesture as permission to continue, placing one of his hands on the small of her back as he pulled the remaining tightened threads free. The intricacies of what seemed to be Elisabeth's every-day attire seemed redundant to Poe; while the dress had likely once been a marvel to behold, the girl wearing it had been hindered massively by its structure. Breathing while wearing one of those _contraptions_ , as Poe had been calling it in his head, couldn't have been comfortable at the best of times. A coup, accompanied by _fire_ and countless destroyed buildings, was not what Poe would define as _the best of times_. Poe hoped the welts scattered across her back, remnants of the tightly laced ribbons, would heal under the loose sweatshirt he'd given her. He'd been sent with women's clothes, knowing his mission had been to retrieve the three girls, but he'd decided his own would be much warmer for her. Caring for the _frozen_ little thing sitting beside him had never been on the agenda. 

"I'll be okay, now, I think," she said, her voice barely reaching a whisper as she clutched her arms across her chest as though her life depended on it. Poe supposed, in another life, the life that had just been torn away from her, her life _might_ _have_ depended on it. He didn't know what kind of monarchy she'd been born into. Poe nodded, once, and stood. 

"I'll wait just outside, alright?" He hated the look on Elisabeth's face as she nodded up at him, the way she looked so _defeated_ and _tired_. She _was_ defeated and tired, though, wasn't she? He couldn't picture the dejected girl in front of him any other way, and it pained him to think that not one day cycle prior, she had been third in line to the Throne. Now, technically, he thought, she _was_ the Throne. While the palace, the Royals, and the village within the castle walls had all perished, Elisabeth had not. He needed to remind her of that, at some point, remind her that she was _still here_ and what the Hynestians didn't know couldn't hurt them. The best thing for the Princess, now, he thought, would be for the townspeople to believe her dead.

By the time Poe turned around again, Elisabeth was standing, her weight supported by the hand she'd curled around a corner of the bunk. The way his clothes hung off of her body made her seem so much smaller than she'd already appeared. She'd looked starved before, but the collar of the sweatshirt she was wearing had slipped past her collarbone on one side, the fabric somehow simultaneously drowning her and accentuating every angled bone in her shoulders and chest. He needed to get some food into her, but doubted her ability to hold her stomach for the flight, especially in hyperspace. She likely didn't have much of an appetite anyway, after everything that had transpired. 

"We need to get off-world, pretty soon," he said, gently, reaching out a hand for Elisabeth to support herself with. Slowly, she curled her fingers around Poe's wrist, ignoring the hand entirely, and allowed herself to rest some of her weight onto him again. "I just gotta get you buckled in." He wanted to smile, to tell her that it was all over, that she was safe. Her own guaranteed safety likely wouldn't bring her any comfort, likely wasn't on her list of priorities.

He frowned instead, leading the girl into the cockpit, assisting her in taking a seat. She'd stopped shaking, now, though her body remained stiff, bar her left leg. The girl stared up at him, blankly, the dark braids falling around her face obstructing his view of her eyes. He didn't want to see them, then, anyway. He didn't want to see the _pain_ behind them. After a moment of silently staring at one another, it became apparent to Poe that Elisabeth did not know how to strap herself in. 

"Have you... Have you _flown_ before?" His chest constricted slightly as the girl shook her head, reaching her fingers to push stray braids away from her face. He had to look at her _eyes_ , now. The pilot had already feared the journey would be uncomfortable for Elisabeth, given the traumatic circumstances, but he hadn't given thought to any prior flight experience she might have had, or a lack thereof. He was _not_ very much looking forward to hyperspace. Poe nodded his head, reaching to take one of the seat's safety belts in his hand. "Your arms go through the straps, here," he said, gesturing towards the two straps he held in his hands, both attached to the same side of the chair, clasped together at the ends, and watched her thread her arm into the gap, "and here, and they clip together in the middle." Poe heard the girl's breath catch in her throat as his fingers brushed over her sternum, clasping the safety belts over her chest. "Like that." Elisabeth nodded her head in acknowledgement, still gazing up at the pilot. 

Taking his own seat, Poe was all too aware of Elisabeth's eyes on him as he prepared to launch, but when he turned to speak he only found her staring at the floor. He coughed, slightly, and said, "You might feel a little sick," trying to speak over the engines without shouting. The last thing he needed to be doing was _shouting_ at _Elisabeth_. Watching the frightened girl clutch the sides of her seat so forcefully, Poe felt guilty for thinking of her as Elisabeth, _just Elisabeth_. Yesterday, he'd have likely been reprimanded for referring to her as such. 

He couldn't allow such negative thoughts to blind him, which he knew but often forgot. Pushing his second-hand heartache to the bottom of his heart, Poe forced himself to focus on getting the Princess off-world. Getting her to D'Qar was a problem for _outside_ the atmosphere. He'd been growing increasingly anxious regarding his timing; leaving too early, or too late, could result in questions he didn't want to answer from people he didn't want to speak to. They had to leave _after_ the first gherlian fur freighter, but _before_ the last. The planet's security had been lax prior to the conflict, but they'd still notice a lone ship taking flight. If they left amongst other freighters, they stood a better chance of getting away without facing obstacles. The first ship, Poe realised, had just taken flight. 

Poe didn't allow himself time to worry about Elisabeth's evident fear, itching to get this freighter _off the ground_. The sooner he could get off of this planet, out of this system, the sooner he could think about their route to D'Qar. He'd wanted to travel via hyperspace, but by the look on her face when the ship lurched away from the planet's surface, he knew it might not have been a possibility at all. Pushing the thought away, he concentrated on his speed. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to push this pile of bolts to its limits, to get out of there as fast as he could. But that would only give them away, wouldn't it? It would only blow their cover. He grit his teeth and kept the ship moving at a steady speed, careful to not let himself steal pitiful glances at the impoverished girl beside him.

Poe noticed, before long, that Elisabeth had twisted herself slightly in her seat, her temple resting on the backrest. She was staring at the pair of empty seats behind them, the seats intended for her sisters. He found himself uncomfortable with the whole situation; as cold as it may have sounded, Poe was used to _surviving_ now and _grieving_ later. That wasn't something he could ask of anyone under these circumstances, though, and he knew that, so he ground his teeth together and pushed further towards the atmosphere. He chose not to ask her if she was doing alright, fearing the recently calmed girl would start to cry again. Seeing her finally breathe somewhat steadily was enough for him. 

Exiting the atmosphere was almost too easy. No one questioned the extra freighter, allowing Poe to slip away from the system entirely in much less time than he'd anticipated. Elisabeth appeared to be falling asleep and he'd hoped for a while that she'd _stay_ asleep until they at least hit the Outer Rim. His hopes, however, as they often did, soon shattered. 

"What's happening?" Elisabeth asked, the clearest she'd spoken to Poe at all since he'd found her. Poe flitted his gaze between the Princess and the airspace ahead of them. He wished that she'd been able to speak to him so confidently under better circumstances, wished they could have a proper conversation. Perhaps it would ease the tension, ease the discomfort. Now wasn't the time for such a discussion.

"We've been _hit_ ," he said, annunciating his T through grit teeth. "You're gonna think I'm crazy, alright? But it has to be said, anyway. I need you to stay calm. You hear me, Elisabeth? I _need_ _you_ to _not panic_." He refused to look at her, then, concentrating on trying to figure out where exactly the blast had come from instead of what what he'd asked of the poor girl. His mother had told him the same thing when he was small, the first time he'd made an astronomical mistake while flying. _Don't panic, Poe. You can't panic_. He'd thought she was insane at the time, but knew now how imperative it was to stay focused. Panicking was a waste of time but, unfortunately, it was also a normal human reaction and asking Elisabeth to refrain from giving in to her instincts at a time like this made his stomach churn with guilt. 

" _Do not panic_ ," she repeated, under her breath, and Poe dared to steal a glance at her before jerking the ship sideways to avoid another blast without notice. She'd squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists, pressing bruised knuckles to her temples. Poe thought she'd tuck her knees up to her chest, if she could. Her one good leg was hindered by the chair's design and the other... He wasn't quite sure what could be done about the other. 

Catching sight of a black six-panelled wing in the corner of his eye, Poe set his features and, without looking at Elisabeth, began engaging the hyperdrive. Whether Elisabeth was prepared for hyperspace or not, they didn't have a choice. The ship whirred with a promising enthusiasm before spluttering slightly and ultimately continuing to hurtle through space, relatively slowly in comparison to what he'd anticipated, a First Order TIE fighter directly on their tail. He swore, loudly, bringing a fist down onto the control panel. 

" _What's happening_?" Elisabeth asked, again, more urgently this time. She hadn't move from her balled up position, her shoulders hunched over with her fists squeezed to the sides of her head. _Nothing_. Nothing was happening. That was the problem. 

"The hyperdrive- the- Elisabeth, I'm about to do something that you're not going to like, but it's necessary. Okay?" He moved his head frantically, looking between the girl and the transparisteel in front of him. 

"Poe," she said, pressing her knuckles more harshly into her skin. "What. Is. Happening?" 

"I'm gonna crash the ship." The girl didn't have time to respond before the ship began speeding towards the ground, heading directly towards the centre of a crater on a nearby moon. Now, he felt much worse about having previously asked her to remain calm. He shouldn't have expected it of her before, and he definitely didn't expect it of her anymore. If traumatising the girl one more time was going to save both of their lives, he didn't know what other option he had. 

If Elisabeth screamed when the ship impacted with the ground, Poe didn't hear it. He apologised, pleadingly, in his head and prayed to a Maker he wasn't even sure he believed in that he'd get to say it out loud to her later. Poe slammed the back of his head against his seat, filled with anguish over the wrecked ship. He needed to get out, and he needed to make sure Elisabeth wasn't any more injured than she already had been. Thankfully, the TIE had swiftly turned around and seemingly jumped into hyperspace upon witnessing the crash. The First Order pilot must have assumed them to be dead, just as Poe had planned. Now, however, he didn't have a ship. What he did have, both of which were no use nor ornament to his predicament, were an injured Princess and a pile of scrap metal _on the wrong side of the Galaxy_.

" _Elisabeth_?" He croaked, unclipping his safety belt and peeling himself away from his chair. He'd began to sweat uncomfortably under his flight suit, and became suddenly grateful that he'd shed the coat before leaving Hynestia. When the girl didn't respond, he feared the worst. He had _not_ gone through all of this just to find her body lying still warm in his cockpit. "Elisabeth," Poe repeated, moving towards her seat, his legs feeling like jelly. She wasn't moving, wasn't making any noise. "Elisabeth, _please._ " He reached his hand out to touch her face, to brush his fingertips over her chin, but the Princess flinched away from him, sinking into the chair. Her eyes were lazing half closed, fixated on some seemingly intriguing point amongst the wreckage, and Poe felt sick at the thought that she looked _just like her mother_ with that dead stare. 

"Why hasn't it ended yet?" She whispered, her voice haunted. Being his mother's son, however short their time together may have been, Poe wanted to reach out to her and offer her his comfort physically, but he doubted she'd respond well to that. He'd have to speak to her instead. Poe had never been the best with words, much preferring to _show_ his sentiments. 

"The threat's _gone_ , Elisabeth. We're alright, yeah? _You're alright_." He'd been glancing up and down her body for the last several moments, trying to determine whether her injuries had worsened at all. He wasn't sure her leg, the left one, had the ability to get much worse, but he intended to keep the rest of her as in-tact as he possibly could. 

"I'm sick of being _alright_ when everyone I love is _gone_." Her voice had dropped to below a whisper, a mere slur of barely intelligible breaths, her eyes devoid of emotion. Poe knew that she had every right to her feelings, that what she was feeling was perfectly explicable and _normal,_ but he sincerely wished that he'd been better prepared on how to behave around a Princess in mourning while they were still potentially in grave danger. He couldn't guarantee her safety until they landed on D'Qar. " _Why hasn't it ended yet_?"

"Look at me," Poe said, gently, moving his hands slowly towards the buckle that sat across Elisabeth's chest, unclasping it. The girl attempted to move further backwards, pressing her head more harshly into the seat. "Please?" When the girl ignored his request once again, he sighed, dropping the unbuckled safety belts and stepping backwards. "I'm going to comm for backup, alright? My friends will come for us. Take us back to D'Qar. And you _will be_ alright, Elisabeth, one day. _Really_ alright." Elisabeth shook her head, reminding Poe vaguely of a distressed child. "You've got no choice," he said, quietly. "Someone has to remember your family the _right_ way. Right now, that person is you." He watched her shut her eyes painfully tight, balling her hands into little fists. "Here's how this is gonna go." Poe kept his voice gentle, leaning against the mostly destroyed control panel. "My General will send additional pilots, _armed_ pilots. We'll jump to hyperspace, get to D'Qar as soon we possibly can. We'll get you settled, comfortable. And _then_ you can have all the time in the Galaxy to patch up that hole in your heart. It _can_ be patched up, Elisabeth. Sometimes, it might get torn open again for a little while, but I need you to remember that we can _always_ patch it right back up again. It just takes time." The Princess reopened her eyes and maintained her prior blank stare, sucking on her bottom lip for a moment. "Can you just give it a _little_ bit of time, Elisabeth?" 

He was becoming increasingly aware of the charred smell procuring itself from _somewhere_ on the ship, and prayed Elisabeth would allow him willingly to help her off of this ship soon. The last thing he needed to do when she was feeling this way was grab her without permission. He feared, due to his prior experiences with the girl, that she'd not be best pleased with him laying his hands on her unwarranted. 

Elisabeth nodded her head, gently, the braids she'd tried to tuck behind her ears tumbling across her face. She'd closed her eyes, again, but had let go of her fists. There were welts, if you looked ever so closely, on the palms of her hands where her fingernails had been cutting into the skin. "What now?" She asked, forcing herself, visibly pained, to sit properly in her chair. This would have all been so much easier if only she'd been able to walk unaided. 

"We need to get out of this rust-bucket before it explodes," he told her, a sad smile on his face. He'd wanted to make a joke, but held it back. Now wasn't the time.

"You couldn't have started with that, could you?" the Princess scolded, shrugging the safety straps off of her shoulders and reaching out to indicate to Poe that she needed help. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her to have had everything a girl could have wished for her entire life, only for it all to be taken away, along with her mobility. The sheer frustration she must have felt at her own body's newfound refusal to operate correctly pained Poe to think about. He offered her a half smile, a genuinely humoured smile. 

"It wasn't what you needed to hear." Elisabeth took his hand this time, instead of grabbing his wrist, and placed her free hand on his shoulder. Poe hauled the girl to her feet, crouching slightly to support her weight the way he'd done before, and headed towards the exit. The door, supposedly high end, had been torn away from the ship's structure entirely upon impact.

"I beg to differ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise elisabeth won't have the personality of a soggy towel forever she's just a little bit traumatised innit


	3. Chapter 3

"You were right, you know?" Elisabeth said, after a while of staring blankly at the ship while it burned, BB-8 resting just behind her. Poe turned his head, somewhat startled to hear her speak. "When you said that someone has to remember my family the right way." He hadn't known anything of Elisabeth's family, except that her mother had been good friends with his General and that they'd fought together in their youth. That was good enough for him to decide that she, at least, had been a good person. "They're good people, Poe," she said, as though the people she were speaking about had not all been beheaded. "They are- we-"

"If you want to talk about it," Poe said, softly, when the girl's silent sobs hindered her speech too much for her to continue, "I'm all ears. But if this is too much for you, I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me anything." He didn't want her to think he didn't care enough to listen, despite not having known her long, but he didn't want her to feel interrogated either. There would be enough people poking at her and asking questions back on D'Qar, and he'd already asked enough questions of his own. 

"We didn't have any real power, you know?" She whispered, eyes fixed ahead of her. "Everything they wanted to take away from us was imaginary." The exhaustion wrought all over her face, whether emotional or physiological, only made her look younger, more vulnerable. Poe found himself growing increasingly impatient with every passing moment. Jessika Pava and Iolo Arana had been sent to retrieve the pair only sixty standard minutes prior, but the longer he sat there next to Elisabeth, the guiltier he felt that she hadn't been allowed any time to process everything that had happened within the last twenty-four hours. He just wanted to allow her to _rest_.

"The First Order had that much control?" He asked, his frown deepening painfully. He hadn't known enough about the situation on Hynestia before leaving D'Qar, it seemed. Elisabeth shook her head before dropping her gaze to her lap, twisting her fingers together nervously. 

"The Nobles have been pulling the strings for centuries. _Breathing propaganda_. That's what my mother says we are." Her lower lip quivered slightly at her own mention of her mother, but she set her mouth in a firm line and balled her hands into little firsts before continuing to speak. She felt as thought she was suffocating, believing herself to be the only remaining individual who knew the _truth_. "We can't _do_ anything without their permission, you see, but they've been refusing for _years_ to allow us to do anything beneficial for the people. The commoners grew hostile eventually. They began a revolt." 

"They've been dethroning you systematically from the inside," Poe mumbled, unable to take his eyes off of Elisabeth as she nodded her head, solemnly. "The Nobles turned your people against you." 

"The siege.... We believe they orchestrated the siege, funded it. I truly thought, for a while, that they were simply going to leave us there to starve." Her voice was still low, still broken and frail, but she managed to keep her volume consistent and mostly kept her composure. The Resistance, Poe thought, had believed the same thing; he'd been sent _alone_ to retrieve the the three Princesses because he'd been expecting a siege, not a coup. The girl's face hardened, momentarily. "They were only waiting long enough to weaken us." Elisabeth ran her fingers over her angular collarbone, over the protrusions her bones made across her shoulders and chest. She still looked empty behind the eyes, Poe thought. She _sounded_ empty. He wished he'd relented earlier and given her a rations packet on the ship, potentially weak stomach be damned. She'd been starved for Maker knew how long and here they were, sitting on a moon, watching their nutrition supplies burn. 

"We," Poe said, meaning the Resistance, "were waiting for an opportunity to get inside, to get you out before anything dangerous really happened. Looks like we waited too long."

"You didn't know about the coup?" Her voice still shook, slightly, but it had become much less of a challenge to understand what she was saying. She sounded more intrigued, then, than traumatised. Poe shook his head, throwing little pieces of rubble at the burning starfighter. 

"The plan was to sneak in through the tunnels and get you off-world before they could even _consider_ a coup. It was sold to me as the easiest prison break I'd ever be sent on." Poe let out a humourless laugh, clenching his jaw. "I'm _so sorry_ I didn't get there sooner." He was sorry, mostly, that she'd been the only survivor. Survivor's guilt would eventually eat away at whatever was, or wasn't, left of Elisabeth's happiness. Elisabeth nodded her head, a solemn acknowledgement of his grievance. Her features, since she'd begun talking about the coup, had remained devoid of emotion. Poe wasn't sure whether it was worse, seeing her like this, than it had been to listen as she sobbed. 

"It probably wouldn't have turned out any better, if you _had_ been earlier." Elisabeth, copying Poe, wrapped her fingers around a loose rock before launching at the burning ship. "They know about the tunnels. It's how they get their spies into the palace." Poe noticed each and every time Elisabeth spoke as if the palace still stood but, though it never got any easier to hear, he'd never have to heart to correct her. He watched her, from the corner of his eye, as she shifted uncomfortably, having to use her hands to move her injured leg. "You could have been killed, you know?" She looked angry, for a second, and it almost made him want to smile. "If you'd gone through those tunnels, you could have been _killed_." Poe shrugged his shoulders, leaning backwards to rest his weight on his hand. 

"I had a blaster on me," he said. Risking his life for others was essentially his job description; when you'd been in the firing line as long as he had, _seen_ the things he'd seen, you'd have a certain nonchalance about it, too. 

"So did they," she whispered, her features suddenly hardening again. "I didn't know what they were, at first. Blasters, I mean... I'd never seen one before." It hadn't occurred to Poe that blasters weren't commonly used weaponry on Hynestia. "We use swords and spears, and even then they're only really used for hunting." Her eyes glassed over, briefly. "Or, they _were_." It broke Poe's heart that she'd chosen _then_ to acknowledge that things had changed. The Hynestians never stopped using their swords and spears for hunting, he thought. They'd just started hunting something else. "They only used the blasters on servants," she said, her volume dropping again. Poe supposed they'd been aiming for maximum efficacy; wipe out the outliers in as little time as possible, leaving the true target vulnerable for a drawn out attack. Blasters tended to be a little bit quicker than sharp sticks. "They'd have shot you, servant or not, you know? They'd have taken one look at that jacket of yours and _shot you_. You shouldn't have come at all." Elisabeth no longer appeared angry. Her expression was heavy with what Poe could only assume was _remorse_. And there, Poe thought, was the survivor's guilt. Elisabeth's breathing, once again, had become erratic and laboured. Checking his wrist comm, he decided that Jess and Iolo were taking _too long_. 

"We were never going to leave you there, Elisabeth," he said, grinding his teeth after saying her name. Elisabeth. She seemingly looked less and less like a Princess with every passing moment. "The General has no business in watching people die needlessly, especially people she cares about." 

"I've never even met her," she whispered, choking on air as she twisted her fingers together painfully. "She cares for my mother. They were friends, once upon a time, I think." Rinetta Gan, as General Organa had known her, had fought alongside the Rebellion in the past. Poe set his jaw, refusing to think of the woman whose head he had seen _impaled on a spike_ as a girl, going off on galactic adventures with his General. She'd have looked like Elisabeth, then, probably. 

"Then she cares for you by extension. You think she'd let you, the child of her friend, _die_ if she could do _anything_ to prevent it?" He kept his voice light, his tone as comforting as he could manage. The last thing he needed was the poor girl to believe he was irritated with her. While his General, to him, may have seemed to be very definition of Light, he couldn't expect this girl to believe the same until she'd met her. "She doesn't meddle in other people's affairs for the fun of it, Elisabeth. She knew what your mother wanted for you, knew that she wanted you to be taken _care_ of, and that's exactly what Leia's going to do. Alright? She will do _everything_ in her power to ensure your safety. She _cares_ , Elisabeth." She nodded her head, glancing at Poe through the corner of her eye as if she wanted to believe him. 

"What's going to happen to me, now?" Elisabeth asked, turning her eyes away from Poe again. Truthfully, Poe hadn't thought much about what would happen to Elisabeth after they arrived on D'Qar; he'd been focused so heavily on _getting her there_ in the first place. 

"You'll probably be spending a little while in the infirmary." He paused, momentarily, to clear his throat. "But after that, they'll give you a place to sleep, some clothes that fit you _much_ better than these ones. A job, one day, maybe. If you wanted it. You'll be _safe_ , Elisabeth," he told her, choosing to entirely neglect the topic of just how quickly a Resistance base could become _detrimentally unsafe_. Poe wasn't certain, though, that the girl really wanted to be safe. What she wanted, he thought, was her family. "We won't make you fight, if that's what you're asking. You need time to heal, Elisabeth, and then you need to figure out who you want to be. Not who the Hynestian Nobles wanted you to be, or who you think the Resistance might want you to be. You've got to go out there and _find yourself_ , alright? Anything less than that would be disrespectful to your family."

Elisabeth nodded her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Poe?" She asked, quietly, the first time she'd said his name. He didn't really have the energy to answer any more questions but refused to be the man who told _this girl in particular_ to shut up. She didn't deserve it, not that day. He smiled, comfortingly, nodding his head as if urging her to speak. "Do you think there's anything that can be done about my leg?" Poe didn't know how he was supposed to answer a question of such calibre, not without upsetting her. Realistically, from what Poe had witnessed himself, the severity of her injuries didn't offer much hope for recovery. As a pilot in the Resistance Navy, he was used to hearing _good_ as a response to _it hurts_. If you were in pain, it meant that your body hadn't given up yet. 

"I can't make you any promises," he said, nudging her knee, the one she could feel, gently, "but I _know_ our medics will do everything they can. I've seen them work a miracle or two." He wasn't sure he should have said the line about miracles. The last thing he needed to do was instil hope that her leg may genuinely be fine, only for her to lose the use of it entirely. "You'll be alright, Elisabeth. You're a strong girl; I can tell you that already." 

"I don't feel strong," she said, and she probably didn't. Not many people would, after the ordeal she'd had. "I feel like I'm sleepwalking and I don't know how to wake up." He wanted to tell her that it would pass, that the weight of loss would get smaller with time, but that wouldn't be entirely true. The weight, to Poe, of losing his mother had never gotten any smaller; it had simply become easier to carry. Elisabeth's loss, Poe knew, would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

"You don't have to feel strong," was the only thing he could think to say that wouldn't reduce him to a liar. "No one can ask you to after everything that's happened. But you can't forget that, inherently, you _are_ strong and you _will_ get through this." Poe had never been the best with words or articulating his emotions properly but he'd had to give a fair share of pep talks in his time, and he wasn't so bad at those. "You won't be alone, you know?" He said, when he realised she was never going to respond. "On D'Qar, I mean. I'll be sent out on missions now and then, but I'll always come back."

"It can't be much lonelier on the Resistance base than it is at Hynestian Court, can it?" Before Poe had the time to decide how to articulate his next question, he caught sight of what he could only hope were his friends preparing to land. He placed a hand on her shoulder, managing to smile somewhat genuinely. 

"I think that's our ride out of here," he said, watching the first ship descent. The transparisteel hatch lifted within the second that the starfighter hit the ground, it's pilot leaning her head over the side as she removed her helmet.

"Best star pilot in the Galaxy, my ass," Jessika Pava said with a roll of her eyes as she pushed herself out of her ship, a 2-man starfighter. " _Look_ at that thing, Dameron. There's nothing left of it." Poe made an honest attempt to smile at his friend, moving to stand. 

"At least my droid still works," he quipped, watching BB-8 fuss around the pilots. "They don't call you the _Great Destroyer_ for nothing, Pava." Gently laying a hand on Elisabeth's shoulder, he said, "Elisabeth, this is Jessika Pava, one of my most trusted colleagues." Jessika smiled, sympathetically, without pity, at the little thing in front of her. 

"Don't listen to him," she said, crouching beside the girl as Iolo Arana's ship landed behind them, once again kicking up all of the dust around their feet. "It's just Jess. That's Iolo." Iolo Arana's feet made a perfect little thud against the ground as he sent his old friend a smile. His face dropped, however, when he saw the state of the Hynestian Princess. 

"Poe..." Iolo said, his face wrought with concern as he watched Elisabeth's left leg trail unnaturally beneath her whilst Poe helped her to her feet. Poe shut his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as he steadied the girl against his side. She'd curled her fingers around fistfuls of his flight suit, squeezing her eyes shut.

" _I know_." He grit his teeth, his eyes pleading with his friend to not dwell too much on her injuries. He'd seen first-hand just how _dreadful_ this girl felt and he wasn't about to let anyone make it any worse. "So which one of these babies do I get to fly home?" He allowed himself to grin, then, momentarily unaware of Elisabeth's anguish, seemingly for the first time since he'd found her. He'd only been half-joking about which ship he'd be flying; he'd has his heart set on Arana's since the moment he'd landed. 

"You think we're letting you fly back to base after _this_ display?" Pava asked, pulling a face intended to inform Poe of his own stupidity. "You're not flying anything until your head's been checked."

"My head's _fine_ ," He said, passively, as he tightened his grip on Elisabeth, ushering her slowly towards the green starfighter hiding behind Pava's. "I'm going to have to pick you up again, alright?" He mumbled to Elisabeth, lowering his face to her ear. "These ships don't work like the freighter." The girl nodded her head, reaching her arms up around his neck, her expression stoic. While she seemed to switch herself off mentally each and every time, Poe found himself relieved that she no longer sobbed or lurched away from him when he touched her. He'd been beginning to believe she was somewhat scared of him. Realistically, though, he'd likely have been scared of some strange man who'd appeared to whisk him away, given the circumstances, too. Grabbing the side of the ship with one hand while the other secured Elisabeth to his chest, Poe slipped his foot into a ridge in the ship's side-panel and pulled himself up to the cockpit. He deposited the girl as gently as he could, and thanked the Maker that she'd only been little. Helping Iolo into a ship like this would have been another story, entirely. 

"Your head is _not fine_ , Poe. You were in a crash," Jessika continued, yanking Poe away from the ship the moment she decided he'd had long enough to fasten Elisabeth's safety belt. 

"A crash during which I _did not hit my head_." He glanced over his shoulder at Elisabeth, who had turned her head the other way to stare at the horizon. "I'm not comfortable leaving her with someone else. _Not_ when she's like this. You didn't see her when I picked her up, Jess." His voice was low and pleading, desperately willing his friend to _just let him fly_. In truth, he knew she was right. Whether he believed he'd hit his head or not, Poe _had_ been in a high-speed freighter crash, and allowing him to operate a ship of any capacity likely wasn't wise. At the same time, however, he wasn't willing to send Elisabeth away with a stranger. While he himself was still technically a stranger, she'd at least grown vaguely comfortable, or at least tolerant, towards him. He believed that she trusted him, in a capacity, and he was not prepared to leave her alone and afraid with someone she didn't want to speak to. 

"You won't be crying about comfort when you _crash again, Poe._ Are you _trying_ to kill her?" What he was _trying to do_ was limit her trauma as much as he possibly could. Being passed around between pilots, having to learn a new name, a new face, every few hours was not going to help her.

"She wasn't injured in the crash," he mumbled, nudging BB-8 with his foot to wake him up. "Go get in the ship, buddy. Elisabeth's waiting." While the little droid's interactions with the girl had been practically non-occurring thus far, he seemed to have taken a liking to her. As silly as it may have sounded, BB-8's approval meant a lot to Poe; it wasn't often that his BB unit's measure of character was unfounded. 

"You call that _not injured in the crash_? Dameron, that girl couldn't move her damn leg, and you're telling me she wasn't injured on impact? _What happened here_?" Poe shook his head, clenching his jaw as he realised that Jessika was genuinely angry with him over this. She wasn't going to let it go. 

"She was already badly injured when I found her. Lost all feeling in that leg, you know? Can't walk on it to save her life." Jess narrowed her eyes, not entirely dissatisfied with his answer but not exactly happy either. "She's scared, Jess. All that crash did was _scare her._ " This, Poe thought, was exactly why he didn't want to send Elisabeth away with another pilot unknown to her. While he _had_ crashed the freighter, yes, he'd done it on purpose to save both of their lives and he truly hoped she knew it never would have happened otherwise. Jessika shook her head, stepping backwards slightly. 

"You're not flying today, Poe. Whether she's injured or not, whether _you're_ injured or not, you were _both involved in a crash_." Poe both loved and hated that his old friend refused to refer to him as Commander. He'd always just been Poe, and he always would be. At times like these, however, when he desperately wanted to pull rank over her, it felt like more of a hindrance than anything else. 

"I've flown after crashing before."

" _Yeah_ , when there was _no other way_ to get you home. We've got two fighters and three pilots, Poe. It's your turn to sit out." Iolo, concern still present on his face, nodded in agreement. Poe shook his head, balling his hands into fists at his sides. They weren't _listening_ to him. He knew, deep down, that they were right. He'd have never let them fly, especially not at lightspeed, after having been in a crash unless there was no other option and they _knew_ that. "Poe?"

"Arana, you'll be flying," he said, swallowing harshly, "Pava, take the co-pilot's seat." His colleague stared at him for a second, open mouthed, before physically recoiling and glaring at him. "That's an _order,_ Pava." He felt sick to his stomach as he walked past the girl he'd been calling a close friend for years, knowing he'd have to pay Hell for this later. Morally, he truly believed he was doing the right thing, but sticking to your morals didn't always turn out quite right. 

"The General won't be happy with this, Poe," Arana told him, following him to the ship Poe planned to commandeer. 

"Wouldn't be the first time." Poe hoisted himself into the starfighter before glancing, pleadingly, at his friends and preparing to take off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like fuck all happens in this chapter except poe and elisabeth have a little chat and then pava tells him off but hope u enjoyed it anyway lol - please note that i wrote this whole thing under the influence of the devil's lettuce so if half of it is gibberish, that'll be why
> 
> also i'm v sorry they've legit been doing like the same thing for 3 chapters - they'll be on d'qar in the next one


	4. Chapter 4

Elisabeth twisted uncomfortably in her seat, willing herself to not feel as sick as she had the first time she'd experienced a take off. She thought she'd made a rather successful attempt at convincing Poe that the previous flight hadn't affected her, but thoughts of the crash they'd suffered plagued her this time. It was becoming far more difficult to remain composed. 

"Is everything alright?" She asked as Poe lowered the transparisteel screen over them and reached for a pair of helmets resting on the control panel. After everything he'd done for her, part of his job or not, the least she could do was offer her support after what she could only assume had been a disagreement with his friends. Poe nodded his head, guilt creeping up on him. He wasn't the one who'd lost _everything_. 

"They think I'm too injured to fly," he said, securing one of the helmets on his head before turning to hand the other one to Elisabeth. He'd wanted to put it on her himself, but decided that he'd have to touch her face if he tried. Touching her face would be overstepping, surely.

" _Are_ you?" Poe engaged the engines, keeping his eyes fixed firmly ahead of him as he switched off his communications system, shaking his head. Every second that passed brought him closer to the inevitable string of lectures waiting for him at home. Iolo had been right, and Poe knew it; General Organa was _not_ going to be happy with him. 

"Of course not." He stole a glance at the girl through the corner of his eye, chewing his lip as he realised just how swamped she was in his clothes. She was the very picture of comfort, but he knew how much pain she was likely in. There was nothing comfortable about _any_ of this for Elisabeth. The girl nodded her head, her eyes seemingly exhausted. She _was_ exhausted, probably, Poe thought. While he'd been hoping for quite some time to let her rest properly, the circumstances hadn't allowed it. "I _promise_ you we're not gonna crash this time." He'd meant it to come across as a joke, something to lighten to mood slightly, but his words sounded, and _were_ , sincere. Anyhow, he wasn't sure anything could possibly have lightened the mood, given the circumstances. It wasn't the time for jokes, he thought, however well intentioned they might have been. 

Though there was no one to listen, Poe counted down out-loud, instinctively, before engaging the hyperdrive. Hovering his hand over the lever, he called, "Making the jump to light-speed in three, two-" and pushed the handle forwards before finishing the sentence. The familiar backwards spin inside his head warmed him, though he knew it was likely to do nothing for Elisabeth but make her feel sick. Having her feel a little nauseous, he thought, was far preferable to taking the long route and _actually_ getting her killed this time. 

Much like on the freighter, Elisabeth had zoned out entirely almost immediately after the ship had left the ground, staring blankly through the transparisteel screen. Poe found himself grateful, this time, for her silence. He wasn't sure what else he could say to the poor girl without making the entire situation worse; he wasn't a connoisseur of words at the best of times. 

Exactly as he'd announced his ascension to lightspeed to nobody in particular, Poe declared, before long, that they would be _dropping out of lightspeed_. Elisabeth didn't really understand what he'd meant on either occasion, but assumed that her stomach might stop doing somersaults if _dropping out_ meant _slowing_ _down_. 

"This is Commander Poe Dameron," he said into his communications system, which he'd only switched on for their landing. "Requesting permission to land." Stealing a glance at Elisabeth, it occurred to him that she was no longer staring ahead of herself, but had turned her eyes down into her lap. She'd never been off of Hynestia; D'Qar's jungle flora and fauna hardly compared to that of the snow drowned mountains of Elisabeth's home planet. Wearing his clothes, he thought, she'd soon start to overheat. _Better to overheat here than freeze out there_. 

"Permission granted." Poe nodded his head, once, to himself before taking the ship low to the ground and gliding into the hangar. No matter how elated he felt to be home, he couldn't shake the remorse he felt over Elisabeth's loss. This was his home, these people his family. Elisabeth didn't have a home, or a family. All she had was this entirely foreign planet and Commander Poe Dameron, whom she'd only known nearly a full day cycle. That wasn't quite enough, was it? 

Poe and Elisabeth had arrived on D'Qar several moments before Iolo and Jessika, much to Poe's relief. He wasn't ready to deal with the fallout that was sure to follow his ignorance. Switching off his comms probably hadn't been his brightest idea, especially given that his fellow pilots were concerned about his health and subsequent ability to fly safely, and he _knew_ he'd have Hell to pay for it. Poe removed his helmet as the transparisteel screen lifted above his head.

"Welcome to D'Qar," he said, with a sombre smile. He watched Elisabeth, carefully, as she unclasped the helmet's strap and lifted it away from her. She looked _numb_. 

"Welcome to D'Qar," Elisabeth repeated, quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on Poe while her head span. As ridiculous as it seemed, he was all she had left of Hynestia, now, the only thing she had that could possibly be linked back to her home planet. Her dress, or what had been left of it, had never been salvaged from the shipwreck and she hadn't had anything else on her person at the time of her rescue. She took a deep breath and swallowed, hard, keeping her eyes fixed on the pilot. If all she saw was Poe, she could pretend that the Resistance base wasn't real for just a little while longer. 

Poe unclasped his safety belt, smiling to himself as Elisabeth copied with her tongue resting on her upper lip, her brow scrunched down to her eyes. Pulling an uncomfortable face as he spotted his General approaching the ship, two senior medics following closely behind with a stretcher being carried between them, Poe turned to Elisabeth with his heart on the floor and said, "I'll help you out of the ship in just a second, alright?" Pushing himself up and out of his seat, he mumbled, "Time to face the music," as one of the medics moved to place a ladder up against the starfighter's side. 

"Commander," General Organa said, disapprovingly, as her star pilot descended from his borrowed spacecraft. Poe was vaguely aware of his friends landing somewhere behind him. He cringed inwardly as he moved the ladder from his side of the ship to Elisabeth. While the ridges in the ship's framework were sufficient in aiding pilots enter and exit their vehicles, he had to admit that using a ladder was far easier. 

"General," Poe reciprocated, nodding his once in her direction, making his way back up the ladder to assist Elisabeth. Lowering his voice and leaning over the side of the ship, slightly, he said, "I'm gonna need to lift you again, alright?" and Elisabeth nodded her head delicately in response. His throat constricted slightly in response to the girl's expression as she reached her arms up to wind them around his neck; she just looked so _helpless._ "The medics are going to need to look at you, and the General will want to speak with you, too. I can probably hold off the General, but you the medics are necessary." Elisabeth nodded, robotically. She still didn't very much feel like talking to strangers, despite her previous heartfelt discussions with Poe. She'd felt as though she had to explain herself to him, but she didn't believe the Princess of Alderaan required an explanation. If she cared for her mother enough to have Elisabeth rescued, and especially as a Royal herself, she already understood, probably. 

Poe let Elisabeth curl herself up against his chest as he wrapped one arm around her body, using the other to keep them both steady on the ladder. He didn't need to see the look on his General's face to understand how distraught she must have been to watch him carry the last remaining child of her old friend away from the starfighter like that. The girl looked so small and fragile to him that he couldn't imagine her appearing any less heart-breaking to anyone else.

Once he'd steadied himself on the hangar floor, Poe slowly let go of Elisabeth's legs, lowering her feet to the ground so that she could stand, if only partially. Elisabeth unwound her arms from his neck, gripping his arm with one hand to support herself while she snaked her arm around his waist. Lowering his head to her ear, Poe whispered, "All you've got to do is hold onto me. Is that alright?" She felt Poe smile against her hair as she nodded her head, comforted by the insinuation that he cared whether or not she was okay with whatever was going on. It was strange, she thought, to be touching a man she barely knew in such a manner, but the entire situation had been strange from the beginning. Poe looped his arm over Elisabeth's shoulders, allowing the girl to lean her weight into him as his General watched them, her expression a cross between startled and pained.

When Elisabeth finally removed her face from Poe's shoulder, she realised that Princess Leia Organa seemed to be exactly how she'd always pictured her; strong, yet humble. She dressed no differently to those around her, and Elisabeth admired her for that, reflecting on how much emphasis had been put on her appearance while growing up; beauty was discomfort. However uncomfortable it may have been, she'd have given anything to spend an hour being poked and prodded at in preparation for some silly feast. At least her sisters would be there. Her _mother_ would be there. 

"May I?" Leia asked, gently, tentatively approaching the pair. Poe knew, if only by the pleasant tone of her voice, that she was not speaking to him. She reached a hand out to Elisabeth, slowly, as if to not startle her. The General dropped her arm to her side, watching the little Princess cringe into Commander Dameron's side. "You must be Elisabeth." Poe bit down on his tongue, urging himself to suppress his guilt. It hadn't been his _fault_ that the other girls were dead, but the way his General had said _you_ must _be Elisabeth_ had made his stomach churn. She _must_ have been Elisabeth, because there was no one except Elisabeth left. "I'm Leia." When the girl simply stared at her, delirious and scared as she clung to the Commander, Leia offered her an empathetic smile. She knew, more than anyone could imagine, what it was like to be the Princess of a Kingdom, or a planet, rather, that didn't exist. "I understand that you've been through quite the ordeal," she said, folding her hands together in front of her, "but Doctor Kalonia here needs to take a look at your injuries before you can get some rest. Will that be alright?" 

Elisabeth looked up at Poe, her expression blank as though she didn't understand what was being asked of her, and his heart broke for the girl all over again. He nodded his head, encouragingly, but when she continued to stare said, "I'll come with you," gently, as if he wasn't about to be shipped off to the infirmary himself anyway. Poe felt her grip on his arm loosen slightly, not having noticed that her nails were digging into his skin through his flight suit until she'd removed them. She hadn't fully let go, her fingers still wrapped around his bicep while her other arm held him solidly at his middle. He hadn't been known around base for being gentle or quiet, but he found himself oddly compelled, still, to not startle or upset the girl. Although his mission, a partial success or not, was over he could not shake the sense of responsibility he felt over Elisabeth. He felt the need to protect her, despite the threat having already been managed. Perhaps it was her visible fragility that made him feel so powerless in regards to helping her. 

Elisabeth nodded her head, finally, to which Leia smiled warmly. While the Princess' resemblance to her mother had sickened Poe, given his one and only interaction with her corpse, it comforted the General to no end. Her friend was gone, yes, and there was nothing that could be done about that, but this girl standing in front of her carried a priceless piece of the Hynestian Queen inside of herself. Until Elisabeth was gone, Rinetta Gan would remain in spirit. 

" _We_ ," the General said, sternly jabbing a finger towards her Commander, "will talk later." She could have caused a scene, could have berated him there and then. That wouldn't have been fair to Elisabeth, though, so her vague warning would have to suffice until the girl was settled in the infirmary. "Are you able to walk, Elisabeth?" The edge had fallen from Leia's voice as she turned her attention back to the girl curled into Poe's side. Elisabeth glanced briefly up at Poe, like a child awaiting confirmation from an adult that it was okay to speak, and shook her head.

Feeling Elisabeth stiffen beside him, Poe ducked his mouth down to her ear and said, "Would you rather I carried you, or is the stretcher alright?" It wasn't likely that the General, or either of the medics she'd brought with her, were going to allow him to carry her but he couldn't _not_ give her the option. 

"The stretcher," she said, before pausing to clear her throat, "The stretcher will be alright." Whether Poe carried her or the medics did, she'd be less than comfortable and people would _stare_ at her. She might as well take the opportunity to stretch her legs. After everything that had transpired, that was the least she could ask for. Poe nodded his head and motioned for the medics to approach. 

"I'm gonna lift you, okay?" He didn't wait for a response, this time, deciding that the blank stare on her face was permission enough. She was _this_ much closer to being able to rest and he wasn't about to delay it any longer than necessary, especially not with questions he'd asked her a million times already. Tucking her into his chest for a moment before lowering her onto the stretcher, Poe grit his teeth. Somehow, seeing her lying there on the plastoid board only made her seem smaller and more fragile. "I'll be right behind you."

Staying true to his word yet again, Poe remained directly behind the stretcher until the medics requested help with transferring the girl onto a standard infirmary cot. Wordlessly, Elisabeth reached her arms out to wind around his neck as though it was becoming second nature to her. _None of this_ should have felt like second nature to her, and Poe found himself looking forward to seeing her rely on herself, seeing her _grow_ as a person instead of shrinking away and hiding. He couldn't ask for anything, at that point, except for her to keep breathing. Anything more might overwhelm the poor thing, and anything less might leave the Hynestian Royal line destroyed. 

Strangely, Elisabeth was shivering when he placed her in the middle of the cot, not letting go until her head lay on the pillow. It must have been a stress response, he thought, for there was _no way_ the girl could still be cold. 

"I suggest," said Harter Kalonia, supporting her weight with a hand leant on Elisabeth's cot, "that you leave with my colleague and allow a medical droid to take a look at that head of yours." Poe grit his teeth, watching Elisabeth cringe into the nearly solid mattress at the mention of being left alone in this room to be _inspected_. 

"I will be _just_ down the hall, okay?" He said, leaning down to Elisabeth's ear once again. Inexplicably, it comforted him that the Princess was becoming comfortable with him so quickly. He supposed he'd proven himself to her, somehow, during the time they'd spend together between Hynestia and D'Qar; it seemed they'd come to somewhat of a silent agreement back on that moon in the middle of nowhere. Her body, all of it bar the leg that still refused to move, tensed against the cot as she nodded her head. "If anyone can get you back on your feet, it's Doctor Kalonia." He smiled, then, uncertain of whether or not it would reach his eyes. Elisabeth was likely too delirious at that point to discern between a false smile and a genuine one, anyway. 

"You'll come back?" Elisabeth asked, her voice as small as she looked. In a way, Poe thought, he was all this girl had. She'd seen everyone she loved for the last time already; it wasn't unexpected for her to cling to the one person in the Galaxy that she vaguely trusted. 

"I have a meeting to attend," he said, glancing up at the General, "but I will be right here as soon as it's over, alright?" Seemingly satisfied by his answer, Elisabeth relaxed slightly. "Doctor Kalonia will take good care of you. I promise." He chose not to touch her again before leaving, deciding she was about to suffer through her fair share of being _touched_ when she did not _want_ to be. Instead, he nodded at her, once, before allowing himself to be ushered away by the second medic, his General following closely behind. He was _kriffed_ and he knew it, but it had all been worth it to prevent any further trauma to Elisabeth. 

Taking a step towards where Elisabeth's head lay, Harter Kalonia said, "Elisabeth," while donning a sad smile. "I'm Doctor Kalonia, but you can call me Harter if you'd like to." Elisabeth kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, wishing this could be happening _anywhere but here_. There was nothing on this Godsforsaken planet that remotely felt like home, and she was fairly certain that there never would be. While she'd spent her twenty-two and a half years surrounded by mortar and stone, she'd suddenly been plunged into a world of plastoid variations and _technology_. The most technologically advanced equipment Elisabeth had seen on Hynestia, before the First Order infiltrated their government, was a long-ranged catapult, constructed out of wood. "I understand the Commander already cleaned some of your scrapes?" Elisabeth nodded, curtly, as comfortably as she could with her head resting on the rudimentary pillow. She'd felt vaguely human, if only for a minute or two, on that moon with Poe. Now, she was numb again. "Alright, well let's get you sat up and then I'd like to take a diagnostics scan of your lower body, if that's okay with you." 

"My leg," she whispered, closing her eyes as the doctor reached to place her hand under her elbows. Pulling the girl gently into herself before leaning her in a semi-seated position, Doctor Kalonia sighed softly. 

"The Commander told us about your leg. You don't need to explain if you don't want to." The girl swallowed heavily, grateful for the older woman's lack of insistence, and nodded her head. She didn't much feel like talking. She wanted to hold onto hope that the technologies the Resistance had within their grasp would be enough to salvage the use of her leg, but didn't want to let herself be disappointed. What was one leg in the grand scheme of all she'd lost, anyway? "I'm going to move the cot across the room, alright? And then I'll need to transfer you onto this platform here in order to perform a scan." Elisabeth nodded, robotically, pulling at the cuffs of Poe's sweatshirt and chewing on her bottom lip. 

"Will it hurt?" She asked, timidly, almost believing that the doctor might laugh at her. She'd never seen such a machine before, retorting inwardly that it looked like some strange kind of speeder. While speeders had been few and far between on Hynestia, she had seen one or two in her time; it was the only comparison she could make. Whatever the contraption resembled, she did _not_ much like the idea of being placed _inside_ of it. 

"It makes a funny noise, but I promise you it won't hurt one bit." 

"That's alright then," she said, quietly, taking a gasping breath of air. It would all be over soon, wouldn't it? And then Poe would come back. "If it can't hurt me, that's alright." Her father had always told her not to mumble to herself, like that. _The Nobles will find you strange_ , he'd said. _We can't have them thinking you're strange_. She'd decided that she didn't much care what Harter Kalonia thought of her, for she was simply too tired. 

"I'm going to move you now, okay?" Following Elisabeth's nod of affirmation, Doctor Kalonia gently pushed the cot, which sat on small wheels, towards the medical diagnostic system. Tucking her hand underneath the Princess' knees, she manually wound the girl's arm over her shoulders and laid her gently on the platform. "All you've got to do, Elisabeth," she said, "is stay still until I move you back onto the cot, okay?" Elisabeth nodded, the back of her head knocking against the plastoid. She'd spent the better half of her life having to remain still; she could stomach it, again, for the next few moments. Regardless, whatever this machine did to her it could _never_ compare to the horrors she'd already faced. "I'm going to start the scan, now." Elisabeth wanted to nod her head, but knew she couldn't so, instead, fixed her eyes to the ceiling and pressed her tongue up against the roof of her mouth. 

As expected, Elisabeth was not a huge fan of the noise the machine made. The large plasteel ring encasing the platform she lay on turned slowly and inched further away from her feet, towards her head. Humming from the back of her throat and willing herself not to twitch nervously, or chew on her lips, Elisabeth reminded herself that this would all be over before she knew it. The ring stopped moving when it reached her hips, pausing with an agonising grinding sound, before retracing its steps and returning to her feet.

"All done," Doctor Kalonia said, with a smile. Considering they were at the height of a Galactic war, the people that Elisabeth had come across so far were unexpectedly optimistic. While both Poe and Harter had spoken to her with care and sympathy, they'd never once faltered in their optimism. "We can move you back onto the cot now," she told her, and Elisabeth found her chest warming. _We_. That one little word had made all the difference, if only for a second, to Elisabeth's newfound helplessness. She pushed herself up into a leaning position, resting her weight on her elbows under the doctor reached out to lift her. The woman, she noted, was much smaller than Poe but seemed to be nearly as strong. Elisabeth, in her current state, wasn't nearly heavy enough to be a hindrance for the average civilian, so it didn't matter much, anyway. 

As the medic deposited the girl back onto the standard cot, there came a sharp knock at the door. Elisabeth squeezed her eyes closed, trying desperately to differentiate the sound of knuckles on plasteel from the sound of footsteps on stone corridor flooring. The palace no longer stood, she tried to remind herself. There was no stone flooring left to _make_ noise. Snapping her head towards the now open door, Elisabeth forced the thought to the back of her head, willing her throat to stop constricting. 

"The chair you requested, Major," a timid looking man sad, not even stepping into the room. He held an oddly folded contraption out in front of him, the only components of which Elisabeth recognised were its wheels. Doctor Kalonia nodded at the man before taking the strange wheeled item from him and unfolding it into what _looked like_ a chair, just as the man had said. 

"That will be everything, thank you," the doctor said, ushering the man out of the room. Turning back to Elisabeth, who had tried to prop herself up uncomfortably on the sorry excuse for a pillow resting on the cot, she continued, "Hopefully, we'll be able to get you back on your feet again but, until then, you should find it much easier to get around with this." The only thing Elisabeth could possibly compare it to would be some strange kind of cart, used for a child, but much too large and lacking any kind of safety restraint. 

" _How_?" She asked, scrunching her features together while she tried desperately to form a theory on how to operate the odd vehicle. An unidentifiable look passed over Doctor Kalonia's face, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. 

"You'll be pushed in the wheelchair instead of being carried around. Isn't that better?" Her smile was light and kind as she watched the girl's eyes widen in what she could only hope was wonder and agreement. Elisabeth nodded her head, watching carefully as the medic folded the chair back into its initial position and leant it against a corner. It wasn't ideal, she thought, but it would certainly be much less humiliating than having Poe haul her around the base. Mildly delirious, head still spinning from everything that had occurred within such a short period of time, Elisabeth did not heard the door slide open.

"Told you I'd come right back, didn't I?" She heard Poe say from the doorway, just as she'd gotten herself somewhat comfortable, a tired smile on his face. While he'd been nowhere near as injured as Elisabeth - he'd only sustained a couple of cuts and bruises, thank you very much - his physical health did not negate the fact that he had now been awake for one full day cycle.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," the doctor said, humour in her voice. "I've pestered you enough for one day, Elisabeth." She smiled softly at the girl. "I'll check on you in the morning, first thing. And Commander?" She turned to Poe, her expression becoming stern. "See to it that Elisabeth makes it to room 31B. She'll need privacy to heal." Poe rolled his eyes as he watched the woman who'd stitched him back together countless times before made headway towards the exit. 

"I got her here in one piece, didn't I?" He joked, regretting it the second it had come out of his mouth. Elisabeth hadn't arrived on D'Qar in one piece at all, and he _knew_ that. When he'd taken that girl back to his ship, hidden amongst the mountains, her will to live had already been shattered.

"Good _night_ Commander Dameron," the senior medic said, taking her own opportunity to roll her eyes before disappearing down the corridor. Elisabeth pressed her mouth into a firm line before scrunching her brow down into her eyes and sighing, a noise unlike any other he'd heard her make. It was a pleasant deviation, he thought, from the soft hiccupping sobs that had cut into the equally as awkward silence every now and then during their flight together. 

"How are you holding up?" He asked, gently, for the first time since the pair had met. Watching her lower lip tremble, he regretted the question almost immediately. He couldn't quite seem to stop saying exactly the _wrong things_. Comforting his friends, people he'd fought for their lives with, was easy; he could just _hold_ them, keep them close and lend them a shoulder to cry on. How was he supposed to comfort Elisabeth any more than he'd already tried? He'd said everything remotely inspiring that he could have possibly thought of back on that moon.

"I'm tired," she said, quietly and sincerely, "and too warm." Poe allowed himself to laugh, ever so slightly, at her discomfort, though not in an unfriendly manner. 

"Yeah, I should have warned you about the climate, shouldn't I?" He'd had other things to be worrying about, though he didn't say that. She didn't need to feel like any more of a burden than she already did, he thought. "At least you're not cold anymore." Poe kicked himself internally for his ridiculously tendency to say the _wrong kriffing thing_ when he felt awkward. To his surprise, Elisabeth glanced up at him with an entirely unfamiliar gleam in her eye, the corners of her mouth teasing a smile. "I guess we'd better get you to bed, huh?" 

"Probably," Elisabeth said, her voice suddenly quietening. She'd been dreading going to sleep as much as she ached for it. Ever since she'd been a little girl, the Princess _could not_ , under _any_ circumstances, sleep anywhere except her own bedroom or those of her sisters. She could barely stomach a night in the guest house; how was she going to sleep on _D'Qar_?

"Would you like me to carry you?" He felt uncomfortable asking her if she _needed_ him to carry her, whether she legitimately did or not. It was highly unlikely that Doctor Kalonia, as perpetually skilled as she was, had managed to get this poor girl walking within the time it had taken Poe to get a head scan and attend his debrief. Elisabeth shook her head, and Poe retorted inwardly that she was probably sick of being carried around by now.

"I have a seat now," she said, "with wheels on it." She motioned to the contraption, which sat folded and leant up against the wall. It made her feel like a child, knowing that she needed to be pushed around, but she knew that it was a stark improvement on being carried. _It's only for now, anyway._

"You mean a wheelchair?" Elisabeth nodded her head, deciding that the word sounded familiar enough. 

"It's only temporary, I think." _I hope_ , is what she'd meant to say, but couldn't bring herself to. She'd hoped for a lot of things recently, but all of the faith in the Galaxy couldn't grant her wishes. Poe nodded his head, stepping further towards the cot. 

"Yeah? We'll have you up and about in no time, right?" He offered her a smile as she pushed herself into a more upright position. He still wasn't quite sure when it would be appropriate to start cracking jokes, but he was becoming marginally more comfortable with optimism. He'd felt terrible back on Hynestia, back on that moon they'd crashed on, trying to convince her that _anything_ would be alright without her family. Now, however, she seemed far too exhausted for misery. Robotic factualism was probably as much as he was going to get out of her until she'd slept. 

When Elisabeth never responded, her head lolling sleepily to the side, Poe moved towards the wheelchair to unfold it. Hopefully, he thought, she'd be asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. Wordlessly, once the seat had been configured correctly, Poe stood before Elisabeth and reached out his arms, tentatively. She rested an arm around his shoulders as he leaned into her, winding his own arm underneath her legs before lifting her once again to his chest. There would come a day, hopefully soon, that she wouldn't need him to hold her this way anymore. Until then, though, he would stay directly by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this 5000 words of waffle? i feel like it's 5000 words of waffle
> 
> was meant to have this done by wednesday last week but then i... wrote... thousands of words of waffle...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long lmao - it's a long one bois

Elisabeth twisted uncomfortably in her seat, willing herself to not feel as sick as she had the first time she'd experienced a take off. She thought she'd made a rather successful attempt at convincing Poe that the previous flight hadn't affected her, but thoughts of the crash they'd suffered plagued her this time. It was becoming far more difficult to remain composed. 

"Is everything alright?" She asked as Poe lowered the transparisteel screen over them and reached for a pair of helmets resting on the control panel. After everything he'd done for her, part of his job or not, the least she could do was offer her support after what she could only assume had been a disagreement with his friends. Poe nodded his head, guilt creeping up on him. He wasn't the one who'd lost _everything_. 

"They think I'm too injured to fly," he said, securing one of the helmets on his head before turning to hand the other one to Elisabeth. He'd wanted to put it on her himself, but decided that he'd have to touch her face if he tried. Touching her face would be overstepping, surely.

" _Are_ you?" Poe engaged the engines, keeping his eyes fixed firmly ahead of him as he switched off his communications system, shaking his head. Every second that passed brought him closer to the inevitable string of lectures waiting for him at home. Iolo had been right, and Poe knew it; General Organa was _not_ going to be happy with him. 

"Of course not." He stole a glance at the girl through the corner of his eye, chewing his lip as he realised just how swamped she was in his clothes. She was the very picture of comfort, but he knew how much pain she was likely in. There was nothing comfortable about _any_ of this for Elisabeth. The girl nodded her head, her eyes seemingly exhausted. She _was_ exhausted, probably, Poe thought. While he'd been hoping for quite some time to let her rest properly, the circumstances hadn't allowed it. "I _promise_ you we're not gonna crash this time." He'd meant it to come across as a joke, something to lighten to mood slightly, but his words sounded, and _were_ , sincere. Anyhow, he wasn't sure anything could possibly have lightened the mood, given the circumstances. It wasn't the time for jokes, he thought, however well intentioned they might have been. 

Though there was no one to listen, Poe counted down out-loud, instinctively, before engaging the hyperdrive. Hovering his hand over the lever, he called, "Making the jump to light-speed in three, two-" and pushed the handle forwards before finishing the sentence. The familiar backwards spin inside his head warmed him, though he knew it was likely to do nothing for Elisabeth but make her feel sick. Having her feel a little nauseous, he thought, was far preferable to taking the long route and _actually_ getting her killed this time. 

Much like on the freighter, Elisabeth had zoned out entirely almost immediately after the ship had left the ground, staring blankly through the transparisteel screen. Poe found himself grateful, this time, for her silence. He wasn't sure what else he could say to the poor girl without making the entire situation worse; he wasn't a connoisseur of words at the best of times. 

Exactly as he'd announced his ascension to lightspeed to nobody in particular, Poe declared, before long, that they would be _dropping out of lightspeed_. Elisabeth didn't really understand what he'd meant on either occasion, but assumed that her stomach might stop doing somersaults if _dropping out_ meant _slowing_ _down_. 

"This is Commander Poe Dameron," he said into his communications system, which he'd only switched on for their landing. "Requesting permission to land." Stealing a glance at Elisabeth, it occurred to him that she was no longer staring ahead of herself, but had turned her eyes down into her lap. She'd never been off of Hynestia; D'Qar's jungle flora and fauna hardly compared to that of the snow drowned mountains of Elisabeth's home planet. Wearing his clothes, he thought, she'd soon start to overheat. _Better to overheat here than freeze out there_. 

"Permission granted." Poe nodded his head, once, to himself before taking the ship low to the ground and gliding into the hangar. No matter how elated he felt to be home, he couldn't shake the remorse he felt over Elisabeth's loss. This was his home, these people his family. Elisabeth didn't have a home, or a family. All she had was this entirely foreign planet and Commander Poe Dameron, whom she'd only known nearly a full day cycle. That wasn't quite enough, was it? 

Poe and Elisabeth had arrived on D'Qar several moments before Iolo and Jessika, much to Poe's relief. He wasn't ready to deal with the fallout that was sure to follow his ignorance. Switching off his comms probably hadn't been his brightest idea, especially given that his fellow pilots were concerned about his health and subsequent ability to fly safely, and he _knew_ he'd have Hell to pay for it. Poe removed his helmet as the transparisteel screen lifted above his head.

"Welcome to D'Qar," he said, with a sombre smile. He watched Elisabeth, carefully, as she unclasped the helmet's strap and lifted it away from her. She looked _numb_. 

"Welcome to D'Qar," Elisabeth repeated, quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on Poe while her head span. As ridiculous as it seemed, he was all she had left of Hynestia, now, the only thing she had that could possibly be linked back to her home planet. Her dress, or what had been left of it, had never been salvaged from the shipwreck and she hadn't had anything else on her person at the time of her rescue. She took a deep breath and swallowed, hard, keeping her eyes fixed on the pilot. If all she saw was Poe, she could pretend that the Resistance base wasn't real for just a little while longer. 

Poe unclasped his safety belt, smiling to himself as Elisabeth copied with her tongue resting on her upper lip, her brow scrunched down to her eyes. Pulling an uncomfortable face as he spotted his General approaching the ship, two senior medics following closely behind with a stretcher being carried between them, Poe turned to Elisabeth with his heart on the floor and said, "I'll help you out of the ship in just a second, alright?" Pushing himself up and out of his seat, he mumbled, "Time to face the music," as one of the medics moved to place a ladder up against the starfighter's side. 

"Commander," General Organa said, disapprovingly, as her star pilot descended from his borrowed spacecraft. Poe was vaguely aware of his friends landing somewhere behind him. He cringed inwardly as he moved the ladder from his side of the ship to Elisabeth. While the ridges in the ship's framework were sufficient in aiding pilots enter and exit their vehicles, he had to admit that using a ladder was far easier. 

"General," Poe reciprocated, nodding his once in her direction, making his way back up the ladder to assist Elisabeth. Lowering his voice and leaning over the side of the ship, slightly, he said, "I'm gonna need to lift you again, alright?" and Elisabeth nodded her head delicately in response. His throat constricted slightly in response to the girl's expression as she reached her arms up to wind them around his neck; she just looked so _helpless._ "The medics are going to need to look at you, and the General will want to speak with you, too. I can probably hold off the General, but you the medics are necessary." Elisabeth nodded, robotically. She still didn't very much feel like talking to strangers, despite her previous heartfelt discussions with Poe. She'd felt as though she had to explain herself to him, but she didn't believe the Princess of Alderaan required an explanation. If she cared for her mother enough to have Elisabeth rescued, and especially as a Royal herself, she already understood, probably. 

Poe let Elisabeth curl herself up against his chest as he wrapped one arm around her body, using the other to keep them both steady on the ladder. He didn't need to see the look on his General's face to understand how distraught she must have been to watch him carry the last remaining child of her old friend away from the starfighter like that. The girl looked so small and fragile to him that he couldn't imagine her appearing any less heart-breaking to anyone else.

Once he'd steadied himself on the hangar floor, Poe slowly let go of Elisabeth's legs, lowering her feet to the ground so that she could stand, if only partially. Elisabeth unwound her arms from his neck, gripping his arm with one hand to support herself while she snaked her arm around his waist. Lowering his head to her ear, Poe whispered, "All you've got to do is hold onto me. Is that alright?" She felt Poe smile against her hair as she nodded her head, comforted by the insinuation that he cared whether or not she was okay with whatever was going on. It was strange, she thought, to be touching a man she barely knew in such a manner, but the entire situation had been strange from the beginning. Poe looped his arm over Elisabeth's shoulders, allowing the girl to lean her weight into him as his General watched them, her expression a cross between startled and pained.

When Elisabeth finally removed her face from Poe's shoulder, she realised that Princess Leia Organa seemed to be exactly how she'd always pictured her; strong, yet humble. She dressed no differently to those around her, and Elisabeth admired her for that, reflecting on how much emphasis had been put on her appearance while growing up; beauty was discomfort. However uncomfortable it may have been, she'd have given anything to spend an hour being poked and prodded at in preparation for some silly feast. At least her sisters would be there. Her _mother_ would be there. 

"May I?" Leia asked, gently, tentatively approaching the pair. Poe knew, if only by the pleasant tone of her voice, that she was not speaking to him. She reached a hand out to Elisabeth, slowly, as if to not startle her. The General dropped her arm to her side, watching the little Princess cringe into Commander Dameron's side. "You must be Elisabeth." Poe bit down on his tongue, urging himself to suppress his guilt. It hadn't been his _fault_ that the other girls were dead, but the way his General had said _you_ must _be Elisabeth_ had made his stomach churn. She _must_ have been Elisabeth, because there was no one except Elisabeth left. "I'm Leia." When the girl simply stared at her, delirious and scared as she clung to the Commander, Leia offered her an empathetic smile. She knew, more than anyone could imagine, what it was like to be the Princess of a Kingdom, or a planet, rather, that didn't exist. "I understand that you've been through quite the ordeal," she said, folding her hands together in front of her, "but Doctor Kalonia here needs to take a look at your injuries before you can get some rest. Will that be alright?" 

Elisabeth looked up at Poe, her expression blank as though she didn't understand what was being asked of her, and his heart broke for the girl all over again. He nodded his head, encouragingly, but when she continued to stare said, "I'll come with you," gently, as if he wasn't about to be shipped off to the infirmary himself anyway. Poe felt her grip on his arm loosen slightly, not having noticed that her nails were digging into his skin through his flight suit until she'd removed them. She hadn't fully let go, her fingers still wrapped around his bicep while her other arm held him solidly at his middle. He hadn't been known around base for being gentle or quiet, but he found himself oddly compelled, still, to not startle or upset the girl. Although his mission, a partial success or not, was over he could not shake the sense of responsibility he felt over Elisabeth. He felt the need to protect her, despite the threat having already been managed. Perhaps it was her visible fragility that made him feel so powerless in regards to helping her. 

Elisabeth nodded her head, finally, to which Leia smiled warmly. While the Princess' resemblance to her mother had sickened Poe, given his one and only interaction with her corpse, it comforted the General to no end. Her friend was gone, yes, and there was nothing that could be done about that, but this girl standing in front of her carried a priceless piece of the Hynestian Queen inside of herself. Until Elisabeth was gone, Rinetta Gan would remain in spirit. 

" _We_ ," the General said, sternly jabbing a finger towards her Commander, "will talk later." She could have caused a scene, could have berated him there and then. That wouldn't have been fair to Elisabeth, though, so her vague warning would have to suffice until the girl was settled in the infirmary. "Are you able to walk, Elisabeth?" The edge had fallen from Leia's voice as she turned her attention back to the girl curled into Poe's side. Elisabeth glanced briefly up at Poe, like a child awaiting confirmation from an adult that it was okay to speak, and shook her head.

Feeling Elisabeth stiffen beside him, Poe ducked his mouth down to her ear and said, "Would you rather I carried you, or is the stretcher alright?" It wasn't likely that the General, or either of the medics she'd brought with her, were going to allow him to carry her but he couldn't _not_ give her the option. 

"The stretcher," she said, before pausing to clear her throat, "The stretcher will be alright." Whether Poe carried her or the medics did, she'd be less than comfortable and people would _stare_ at her. She might as well take the opportunity to stretch her legs. After everything that had transpired, that was the least she could ask for. Poe nodded his head and motioned for the medics to approach. 

"I'm gonna lift you, okay?" He didn't wait for a response, this time, deciding that the blank stare on her face was permission enough. She was _this_ much closer to being able to rest and he wasn't about to delay it any longer than necessary, especially not with questions he'd asked her a million times already. Tucking her into his chest for a moment before lowering her onto the stretcher, Poe grit his teeth. Somehow, seeing her lying there on the plastoid board only made her seem smaller and more fragile. "I'll be right behind you."

Staying true to his word yet again, Poe remained directly behind the stretcher until the medics requested help with transferring the girl onto a standard infirmary cot. Wordlessly, Elisabeth reached her arms out to wind around his neck as though it was becoming second nature to her. _None of this_ should have felt like second nature to her, and Poe found himself looking forward to seeing her rely on herself, seeing her _grow_ as a person instead of shrinking away and hiding. He couldn't ask for anything, at that point, except for her to keep breathing. Anything more might overwhelm the poor thing, and anything less might leave the Hynestian Royal line destroyed. 

Strangely, Elisabeth was shivering when he placed her in the middle of the cot, not letting go until her head lay on the pillow. It must have been a stress response, he thought, for there was _no way_ the girl could still be cold. 

"I suggest," said Harter Kalonia, supporting her weight with a hand leant on Elisabeth's cot, "that you leave with my colleague and allow a medical droid to take a look at that head of yours." Poe grit his teeth, watching Elisabeth cringe into the nearly solid mattress at the mention of being left alone in this room to be _inspected_. 

"I will be _just_ down the hall, okay?" He said, leaning down to Elisabeth's ear once again. Inexplicably, it comforted him that the Princess was becoming comfortable with him so quickly. He supposed he'd proven himself to her, somehow, during the time they'd spend together between Hynestia and D'Qar; it seemed they'd come to somewhat of a silent agreement back on that moon in the middle of nowhere. Her body, all of it bar the leg that still refused to move, tensed against the cot as she nodded her head. "If anyone can get you back on your feet, it's Doctor Kalonia." He smiled, then, uncertain of whether or not it would reach his eyes. Elisabeth was likely too delirious at that point to discern between a false smile and a genuine one, anyway. 

"You'll come back?" Elisabeth asked, her voice as small as she looked. In a way, Poe thought, he was all this girl had. She'd seen everyone she loved for the last time already; it wasn't unexpected for her to cling to the one person in the Galaxy that she vaguely trusted. 

"I have a meeting to attend," he said, glancing up at the General, "but I will be right here as soon as it's over, alright?" Seemingly satisfied by his answer, Elisabeth relaxed slightly. "Doctor Kalonia will take good care of you. I promise." He chose not to touch her again before leaving, deciding she was about to suffer through her fair share of being _touched_ when she did not _want_ to be. Instead, he nodded at her, once, before allowing himself to be ushered away by the second medic, his General following closely behind. He was _kriffed_ and he knew it, but it had all been worth it to prevent any further trauma to Elisabeth. 

Taking a step towards where Elisabeth's head lay, Harter Kalonia said, "Elisabeth," while donning a sad smile. "I'm Doctor Kalonia, but you can call me Harter if you'd like to." Elisabeth kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, wishing this could be happening _anywhere but here_. There was nothing on this Godsforsaken planet that remotely felt like home, and she was fairly certain that there never would be. While she'd spent her twenty-two and a half years surrounded by mortar and stone, she'd suddenly been plunged into a world of plastoid variations and _technology_. The most technologically advanced equipment Elisabeth had seen on Hynestia, before the First Order infiltrated their government, was a long-ranged catapult, constructed out of wood. "I understand the Commander already cleaned some of your scrapes?" Elisabeth nodded, curtly, as comfortably as she could with her head resting on the rudimentary pillow. She'd felt vaguely human, if only for a minute or two, on that moon with Poe. Now, she was numb again. "Alright, well let's get you sat up and then I'd like to take a diagnostics scan of your lower body, if that's okay with you." 

"My leg," she whispered, closing her eyes as the doctor reached to place her hand under her elbows. Pulling the girl gently into herself before leaning her in a semi-seated position, Doctor Kalonia sighed softly. 

"The Commander told us about your leg. You don't need to explain if you don't want to." The girl swallowed heavily, grateful for the older woman's lack of insistence, and nodded her head. She didn't much feel like talking. She wanted to hold onto hope that the technologies the Resistance had within their grasp would be enough to salvage the use of her leg, but didn't want to let herself be disappointed. What was one leg in the grand scheme of all she'd lost, anyway? "I'm going to move the cot across the room, alright? And then I'll need to transfer you onto this platform here in order to perform a scan." Elisabeth nodded, robotically, pulling at the cuffs of Poe's sweatshirt and chewing on her bottom lip. 

"Will it hurt?" She asked, timidly, almost believing that the doctor might laugh at her. She'd never seen such a machine before, retorting inwardly that it looked like some strange kind of speeder. While speeders had been few and far between on Hynestia, she had seen one or two in her time; it was the only comparison she could make. Whatever the contraption resembled, she did _not_ much like the idea of being placed _inside_ of it. 

"It makes a funny noise, but I promise you it won't hurt one bit." 

"That's alright then," she said, quietly, taking a gasping breath of air. It would all be over soon, wouldn't it? And then Poe would come back. "If it can't hurt me, that's alright." Her father had always told her not to mumble to herself, like that. _The Nobles will find you strange_ , he'd said. _We can't have them thinking you're strange_. She'd decided that she didn't much care what Harter Kalonia thought of her, for she was simply too tired. 

"I'm going to move you now, okay?" Following Elisabeth's nod of affirmation, Doctor Kalonia gently pushed the cot, which sat on small wheels, towards the medical diagnostic system. Tucking her hand underneath the Princess' knees, she manually wound the girl's arm over her shoulders and laid her gently on the platform. "All you've got to do, Elisabeth," she said, "is stay still until I move you back onto the cot, okay?" Elisabeth nodded, the back of her head knocking against the plastoid. She'd spent the better half of her life having to remain still; she could stomach it, again, for the next few moments. Regardless, whatever this machine did to her it could _never_ compare to the horrors she'd already faced. "I'm going to start the scan, now." Elisabeth wanted to nod her head, but knew she couldn't so, instead, fixed her eyes to the ceiling and pressed her tongue up against the roof of her mouth. 

As expected, Elisabeth was not a huge fan of the noise the machine made. The large plasteel ring encasing the platform she lay on turned slowly and inched further away from her feet, towards her head. Humming from the back of her throat and willing herself not to twitch nervously, or chew on her lips, Elisabeth reminded herself that this would all be over before she knew it. The ring stopped moving when it reached her hips, pausing with an agonising grinding sound, before retracing its steps and returning to her feet.

"All done," Doctor Kalonia said, with a smile. Considering they were at the height of a Galactic war, the people that Elisabeth had come across so far were unexpectedly optimistic. While both Poe and Harter had spoken to her with care and sympathy, they'd never once faltered in their optimism. "We can move you back onto the cot now," she told her, and Elisabeth found her chest warming. _We_. That one little word had made all the difference, if only for a second, to Elisabeth's newfound helplessness. She pushed herself up into a leaning position, resting her weight on her elbows under the doctor reached out to lift her. The woman, she noted, was much smaller than Poe but seemed to be nearly as strong. Elisabeth, in her current state, wasn't nearly heavy enough to be a hindrance for the average civilian, so it didn't matter much, anyway. 

As the medic deposited the girl back onto the standard cot, there came a sharp knock at the door. Elisabeth squeezed her eyes closed, trying desperately to differentiate the sound of knuckles on plasteel from the sound of footsteps on stone corridor flooring. The palace no longer stood, she tried to remind herself. There was no stone flooring left to _make_ noise. Snapping her head towards the now open door, Elisabeth forced the thought to the back of her head, willing her throat to stop constricting. 

"The chair you requested, Major," a timid looking man sad, not even stepping into the room. He held an oddly folded contraption out in front of him, the only components of which Elisabeth recognised were its wheels. Doctor Kalonia nodded at the man before taking the strange wheeled item from him and unfolding it into what _looked like_ a chair, just as the man had said. 

"That will be everything, thank you," the doctor said, ushering the man out of the room. Turning back to Elisabeth, who had tried to prop herself up uncomfortably on the sorry excuse for a pillow resting on the cot, she continued, "Hopefully, we'll be able to get you back on your feet again but, until then, you should find it much easier to get around with this." The only thing Elisabeth could possibly compare it to would be some strange kind of cart, used for a child, but much too large and lacking any kind of safety restraint. 

" _How_?" She asked, scrunching her features together while she tried desperately to form a theory on how to operate the odd vehicle. An unidentifiable look passed over Doctor Kalonia's face, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. 

"You'll be pushed in the wheelchair instead of being carried around. Isn't that better?" Her smile was light and kind as she watched the girl's eyes widen in what she could only hope was wonder and agreement. Elisabeth nodded her head, watching carefully as the medic folded the chair back into its initial position and leant it against a corner. It wasn't ideal, she thought, but it would certainly be much less humiliating than having Poe haul her around the base. Mildly delirious, head still spinning from everything that had occurred within such a short period of time, Elisabeth did not heard the door slide open.

"Told you I'd come right back, didn't I?" She heard Poe say from the doorway, just as she'd gotten herself somewhat comfortable, a tired smile on his face. While he'd been nowhere near as injured as Elisabeth - he'd only sustained a couple of cuts and bruises, thank you very much - his physical health did not negate the fact that he had now been awake for one full day cycle.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," the doctor said, humour in her voice. "I've pestered you enough for one day, Elisabeth." She smiled softly at the girl. "I'll check on you in the morning, first thing. And Commander?" She turned to Poe, her expression becoming stern. "See to it that Elisabeth makes it to room 31B. She'll need privacy to heal." Poe rolled his eyes as he watched the woman who'd stitched him back together countless times before made headway towards the exit. 

"I got her here in one piece, didn't I?" He joked, regretting it the second it had come out of his mouth. Elisabeth hadn't arrived on D'Qar in one piece at all, and he _knew_ that. When he'd taken that girl back to his ship, hidden amongst the mountains, her will to live had already been shattered.

"Good _night_ Commander Dameron," the senior medic said, taking her own opportunity to roll her eyes before disappearing down the corridor. Elisabeth pressed her mouth into a firm line before scrunching her brow down into her eyes and sighing, a noise unlike any other he'd heard her make. It was a pleasant deviation, he thought, from the soft hiccupping sobs that had cut into the equally as awkward silence every now and then during their flight together. 

"How are you holding up?" He asked, gently, for the first time since the pair had met. Watching her lower lip tremble, he regretted the question almost immediately. He couldn't quite seem to stop saying exactly the _wrong things_. Comforting his friends, people he'd fought for their lives with, was easy; he could just _hold_ them, keep them close and lend them a shoulder to cry on. How was he supposed to comfort Elisabeth any more than he'd already tried? He'd said everything remotely inspiring that he could have possibly thought of back on that moon.

"I'm tired," she said, quietly and sincerely, "and too warm." Poe allowed himself to laugh, ever so slightly, at her discomfort, though not in an unfriendly manner. 

"Yeah, I should have warned you about the climate, shouldn't I?" He'd had other things to be worrying about, though he didn't say that. She didn't need to feel like any more of a burden than she already did, he thought. "At least you're not cold anymore." Poe kicked himself internally for his ridiculously tendency to say the _wrong kriffing thing_ when he felt awkward. To his surprise, Elisabeth glanced up at him with an entirely unfamiliar gleam in her eye, the corners of her mouth teasing a smile. "I guess we'd better get you to bed, huh?" 

"Probably," Elisabeth said, her voice suddenly quietening. She'd been dreading going to sleep as much as she ached for it. Ever since she'd been a little girl, the Princess _could not_ , under _any_ circumstances, sleep anywhere except her own bedroom or those of her sisters. She could barely stomach a night in the guest house; how was she going to sleep on _D'Qar_?

"Would you like me to carry you?" He felt uncomfortable asking her if she _needed_ him to carry her, whether she legitimately did or not. It was highly unlikely that Doctor Kalonia, as perpetually skilled as she was, had managed to get this poor girl walking within the time it had taken Poe to get a head scan and attend his debrief. Elisabeth shook her head, and Poe retorted inwardly that she was probably sick of being carried around by now.

"I have a seat now," she said, "with wheels on it." She motioned to the contraption, which sat folded and leant up against the wall. It made her feel like a child, knowing that she needed to be pushed around, but she knew that it was a stark improvement on being carried. _It's only for now, anyway._

"You mean a wheelchair?" Elisabeth nodded her head, deciding that the word sounded familiar enough. 

"It's only temporary, I think." _I hope_ , is what she'd meant to say, but couldn't bring herself to. She'd hoped for a lot of things recently, but all of the faith in the Galaxy couldn't grant her wishes. Poe nodded his head, stepping further towards the cot. 

"Yeah? We'll have you up and about in no time, right?" He offered her a smile as she pushed herself into a more upright position. He still wasn't quite sure when it would be appropriate to start cracking jokes, but he was becoming marginally more comfortable with optimism. He'd felt terrible back on Hynestia, back on that moon they'd crashed on, trying to convince her that _anything_ would be alright without her family. Now, however, she seemed far too exhausted for misery. Robotic factualism was probably as much as he was going to get out of her until she'd slept. 

When Elisabeth never responded, her head lolling sleepily to the side, Poe moved towards the wheelchair to unfold it. Hopefully, he thought, she'd be asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. Wordlessly, once the seat had been configured correctly, Poe stood before Elisabeth and reached out his arms, tentatively. She rested an arm around his shoulders as he leaned into her, winding his own arm underneath her legs before lifting her once again to his chest. There would come a day, hopefully soon, that she wouldn't need him to hold her this way anymore. Until then, though, he would stay directly by her side.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite telling himself countless times the night prior that he absolutely could not allow himself to be disappointed when Elisabeth never showed up for breakfast, Poe found his heart sinking further into his stomach with every passing second that she did not arrive. He'd been to check on her that morning, almost immediately after getting out out of bed, but she'd been asleep; he didn't feel comfortable waking her after the night she'd had. She probably needed the sleep, he thought, followed by _because I let her fall._

"How's Elisabeth?" Jessica Pava asked, reaching over the table to steal Iolo Arana's caf. It wasn't the first time she'd asked since coming to their rescue, and it likely wouldn't be the last, but her simple question filled Poe with dread each and every time. Truthfully, he didn't _know_ how Elisabeth was doing, but he could only assume that it wasn't good. Every time she seemed to have a little burst of energy, or any kind of optimism about her situation, something brought everything crashing down again. 

"She's still sleeping," he said, scratching to base of his neck. "I don't think she's taking any of this very well, and not having anyone she trusts to talk to can't be making matters any easier." 

"Seemed to trust you plenty the last time _I_ saw her," Iolo said around a mouthful of grain cereal, earning a stern side glance from Jess, to which he shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. _It's true_ , he thought, recalling the terrified girl he'd seen clinging to his friend as he helped her into a starfighter, and again in the hangar once they'd returned. 

"She was in shock," he said, mumbling at the end, "Probably still is..." She could have used a friend, then, he thought, and he fully intended to be just that until they discovered some sort of fatal incompatibility between them. "Anyway," Poe slapped his palms down onto the table before standing and pushing the bench away with the backs of his legs, "I've got drills to run before briefing. Fifteen hundred, alright, Iolo?" He pointed at his friend, backing away from the table as casually as he could manage. Truthfully, he felt suffocated. He didn't _want_ to talk about Elisabeth, not when he knew so little; how could he reassure anyone of her condition when, as far as he knew, nothing had changed? 

"Fifteen hundred," Iolo responded, a tired expression on his face, and nodded his head once, curtly, as Poe tapped on BB-8's head to signal that they were leaving. 

Elisabeth found herself anxious, that morning, waiting for Poe to show up. She felt sick at the thought that he might never arrive at all, that her lack of gratitude had sent him away for good, and wished for a second that her mother was there to tell her how to feel. _Mother_. It felt wrong to her how viciously she'd fought against thoughts of her family. She wasn't sure she'd have gotten through the couple of days she'd been there had she been drowning in sharp nostalgia. 

Doctor Kalonia didn't allow much time for thoughts of her mother, Elisabeth thought, for they were so starkly different. Not only in appearance, as Harter's complexion was much fairer than that of Elisabeth's people, but in personality and involvement. While Rinetta Gan, the Queen of Hynestia, had been a caring and loving mother, she'd been a ruler first and foremost - she didn't have time to concern herself with your personal problems the majority of the time. Harter Kalonia was not the same, demanding profession aside.

"Do you think he'll come to see me today?" Elisabeth asked, knowing full well that she ran the risk of Doctor Kalonia believing she was worried about nothing but _boys_. Truthfully, she did ache to see him again, but that was likely down to the fact that everyone else terrified her. Harter Kalonia was fine, and Poe Dameron was better, still. Leia Organa... Well, Elisabeth was sure she wouldn't find her so admirably terrifying forever. She hadn't been exposed to anyone else nearly long enough to form any kind of opinion, let alone an attachment. Is that what this was between her and Poe? An _attachment_? All she'd had before, really, were her family; she'd never had friends. 

"Who? Dameron?" Nodding her head, Elisabeth hobbled forwards on her crutches, determined to make it to the door and back. As miserable as she might have been, she'd have given anything to get out of that force-forsaken room without that _chair_. What she needed was a distraction, and it was difficult to distract oneself while locked inside a tiny white box with a _datapad_ , whatever that might have been, that was no use nor ornament without a manual. 

"Yes," she said. "Do you think Dameron will come see me today?" She felt odd, using his surname. While she'd not used his name excessively since they'd met, she'd certainly never called him anything other than _Poe_. In any case, she felt odd referring to anyone here by name. She wasn't sure whether to say Doctor Kalonia, or Doctor Harter, or General Organa, or Princess Leia, and nearly everyone else was nameless in her head. 

"He already has, you know? He checked on you this morning, while you were sleeping. He didn't want to wake you." She wondered if he'd simply been maintaining his manners, or if he'd not wanted to face her after the way she'd spoken to him. It had been a long time since she'd ordered anyone away from her room that way. She'd been polite enough to say _please_ , at least, but that alone didn't excuse her. Surely, though, if he hadn't wanted to see her at all, he would never have checked on her in the first place. He had no personal obligation or attachment to her; she was just his most recent rescue agenda. He was checking on her because he _wanted_ to. Surely? 

Elisabeth decided that it didn't matter to her _why_ he'd come to see her, only that he _had_ , and that meant she'd almost definitely see him later on. She wasn't sure whether it was some silly saviour complex or if she genuinely enjoyed his company, but she felt less _incorrect_ around Poe. It was almost as if he allowed her to forget, if only for a little while, that everything had fallen to pieces just days before. It would have been nice to have a friend; relationships, platonic or otherwise, were difficult to accumulate and maintain when you'd rather _hide_ and _read_. 

"Do you think he'll come back?" She felt a little helpless, having to sit there and wait for him to _potentially_ return. Usually, there'd been a promise that he'd see her later, but it hadn't ended that way this time. Elisabeth chastised herself for dwelling, once again, on _when_ or _why_ she would see Poe Dameron again. 

"I couldn't tell you that if I tried," she said, with a smile, continuing, "but I do have an idea, if seeing Dameron might put a smile on your face." And then, for a moment, Elisabeth felt an ever so slight fragment of hope. It might have been silly to hope for seeing a _boy_ after everything she'd suffered through, but that didn't matter, then. What mattered was that Elisabeth was able to feel _hope_ at all. 

"Alright," Poe Dameron said in his Commander voice, the one that let BB-8 know he needed to be quiet for a little bit, "Four, five, six, dash VH; Operation Sabre-Strike." Iolo and Karé, while usually friends he could joke with, stared at him, their faces set seriously. Clapping his hands together and resting against a desk, Poe began, “You _may_ or may not know that the Hevurion Grace was seen recently leaving a First Order hangar. We have reason to believe they’re feeding information to the First Order and intentionally delaying motions in the Senate that would increase support to the Defence Fleet. Ro-Kiintor could be associating with the likes of Hux, or worse, alright? The General wants to check the ship's logs.”

“So, we’re taking the Hevurion Grace?” Kun said, folding her arms in front of her chest after running her fingers through her hair. 

“That’s the gist of it. Orders also include capturing the Senator. We leave in the morning, together. It should only take a couple of hours to get there and then the two of you will cover me while I board. _Hopefully_ I won’t need you again until the ship is ours.” He reached behind the desk and held up a bulky orange suit, intending to fit tightly unlike the standard pilot uniform, with a dome over the head. “We’ll all be wearing EVA suits, and flying vintage Z-95 Headhunter Starfighters. No, before anyone starts asking questions, you don’t get to keep the ships.” 

“Unfortunately,” he said trying desperately to wrap this all up as quickly as possible, “these starfighters aren’t very big, so there won’t be any astromechs," to which his little droid protested noisily, earning himself a scowl and a light kick before Poe continued, "I'm gonna need you both at the top of your game, alright? Get some sleep, tonight. You're gonna need it.” He probably should have spent more time briefing the pair on the mission's specificities, such as flight formations and their escape plan should it all go wrong, but he knew them well enough to be content with explaining most of it on the way. 

"See you in the morning?" Karé said, glancing at Poe over her shoulder with a mildly exhausted smile on her face. She'd probably not slept sufficiently in days, and here he was asking her, ordering her, to help him pull of grand theft auto. Poe returned the smile, although conflicted internally, and moved away from the desk he'd been leaning on. 

"Yeah," he said, wishing that everything was different and they were simply parting ways from a normal job, on a normal planet, and that they'd see each other the next day to complete the same mundane tasks. When you'd been fighting for as long as they had, though, stealing a major aircraft _was_ a mundane activity. "I'll see you in the morning." 

"You coming to the mess?" Iolo said, after a second, and Poe nodded his head as if that wasn't the last thing he wanted to do. Truthfully, he'd been telling himself all day that he had to wait to see Elisabeth until later, but he was growing wildly impatient with every passing second. He just wanted to make sure she was alright. 

Mostly, the pair of pilots walked silently, bar BB-8's humming; Iolo occasionally made passive remarks regarding whatever was going on around them, and Poe had responded with less than polite nods and grunts. He was blissfully unaware of just how rude he'd been coming across, and he ought to have counted himself lucky that Iolo knew him well enough to put it down to a _bad day_ instead of calling him out. Iolo doubted any of the others would have given their Commander the same courtesy, and was starting to doubt that he even deserved it. But there he was, leading the man supposedly holding the title of best pilot in the Resistance towards a bench in the mess because he seemed to have lost his own sense of direction entirely amongst is apparent inner turmoil. 

From the moment they sat down until Iolo decided enough was enough and started to provoke him, Poe stared blankly at the wall, unable to retain or recall anything his friend had said to him over the last several minutes. He was too tired for all this interaction, despite usually being fully up for it. That day, he just didn't feel quite right. 

"That's not... Poe? Is that...?" Iolo had been repeatedly tapping his fingers against Poe's upper arm for a couple of seconds now, in an attempt to get his attention. " _Poe_ ," he hissed, backhanding his friend's knee harshly. "Isn't that Elisabeth?" 

"Elisabeth?" He asked, finally, around a mouthful of whatever he'd been eating. He took a second to turn his head, confirming that the little lost Princess was, in fact, standing in the entryway of the mess hall, Doctor Harter Kalonia standing just behind her, smiling encouragingly. Forcing partially chewed food down his throat, Poe smiled as he stood, swinging his legs over the little bench he'd been sitting on. "Elisabeth!" He said, brightly, starting to make his way over to the girl. All of the disappointment and impatience he'd felt that morning didn't matter, anymore. Breakfast or not, she'd shown up despite everything that had happened. 

Everything was fine, for a moment. The doctor had felt confident enough to leave the hall while Elisabeth made her way over to Poe, and the way she was _almost_ smiling at him confirmed the little confidence boost it had given her. But then, Elisabeth mis-stepped and slipped, her crutches clattering to the ground a split second before she made impact herself. 

Although he'd been too far away to prevent it, Poe felt, once again, terrible that he'd let her fall. Carelessly pushing his way past other pilots trying to carry their food to their seat, he rushed to Elisabeth's side, Iolo directly behind him. "She's gonna stop trusting me one of these days," he muttered to himself, feeling as though she got further away from him with every step he took towards her. 

"Are you hurt?" He whispered, crouching to the ground and hovering his lips over her ear. He'd wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, his other hand already moving to rest behind her knees. Elisabeth shook her head and allowed Poe to pull her closer to his chest before propping her up on one of his knees and standing, lifting her as he did. "We'll get you out of here, yeah?" She visibly chewed on her bottom lip for a second before burying her face in the crook of Poe's neck. Again, the familiarity that she'd been showing him made Poe feel _guilty_ and _sick_. He was perpetually all too aware that no one in the Galaxy knew this girl better than he did, and he barely knew anything about her at all. 

"They're all looking at us, Poe," she whimpered into the base of this throat, the last shred of dignity she had left dissipating into thin air. Being held this way had become a much too common occurrence, and she'd not thought her situation could have gotten much worse until it had happened in front of half the Resistance's forces. 

"No one's looking," he lied, keeping his eyes fixed on the door while Iolo followed him across the room. "No one's looking at us, Elisabeth. I promise." _More white lies_ , he thought. How many would he tell before it all went too far? Once they'd finally reached the door and left the building, he turned to Iolo and said, "I need you to grab something for her; we're going to the infirmary. BB-8, you stay with Iolo, alright, buddy?" Giving him a nod of affirmation, Iolo handed Poe the crutches he'd picked up from where they'd clattered to the ground, tucking them underneath his friend's arm in such a fashion that he wouldn't have to put the girl down. 

"I'll see you guys soon." He felt guilty asking Iolo to once again come to their rescue, but he didn't see any other options and it wasn't like they were stranded on an uncharted moon this time, right? All he'd asked for was some food for Elisabeth. His evening was more or less clear in terms of responsibilities - anything he needed to do, he could easily do with Elisabeth sitting beside him - and he was currently less than willing to leave her in that terrible infirmary room all by herself. Poe nodded once in Iolo's direction before heading towards Elisabeth's temporary residence, occasionally supporting her weight with one arm to offer comfort with the other. Whether she appreciated it or not, he wasn't sure, but it made him feel better about the situation in any case. 

Approaching the infirmary, Poe thought it would be best to ask Elisabeth if she wanted to walk the rest of the way herself, but found himself not quite ready to put her down yet. If she could just stay tucked up against his chest for as long as he could keep her there, he wouldn't have to watch her fall again for at least a little while. So, against his better judgement, he did, in fact, keep her pressed closely against him until they reached the room that was slowly becoming hers. 

"I'm gonna put you down now, alright?" He mumbled partially against her hair, which was still in the same tight braids she'd had on Hynestia, while loosening his grip on her legs and tightening his hold on her back. Elisabeth instinctively allowed her feet to touch the floor, staying close to Poe for support. Her newfound inability to actually feel the ground against the bottom of her boot, or her boot on her skin, still made her feel inexplicably inhuman. It was _wrong_. 

Elisabeth watched in awe and misery as Poe pressed various buttons on the door's keypad in order for them to enter the room, still entirely baffled by the idea of technology beyond a portcullis gate or a water mill. Instead of handing her the crutches and allowing her to steady herself as she'd expected, Poe clung to her until they reached her cot. Wordlessly, he lifted her to sit with her legs hanging over the edge before pulling up a chair from the corner of the room. Not once had he taken his eyes off of Elisabeth, and she was all too aware of it. 

Poe sat down in front of her, tilting his chin upwards to compensate for the height disparity, and said, "Are you okay?" She could be thankful, at least, that he hadn't suggested they speak to the doctor. His kindness scared her, in a way. What did he get out of sitting there and _caring about her problems_? If Elisabeth had known Poe better, which she did not, she'd have known that he did _genuinely_ care, because that's just who he was. 

Elisabeth nodded her head, making a miserable effort to keep her expression neutral. Nothing felt _real_. All of these new people, all of these strange places... it had all been a dream, surely. Poe Dameron didn't exist, and the _infirmary_ didn't exist, and she'd never fallen over in the mess hall. She was lying on the floor in her father's oratory, hallucinating far too vividly; her imagination had always been wild, after all, and malnutrition would do funny things to a girl. 

"I think so," she whispered, feeling a horribly overwhelming urge to _go home._ She didn't know where that was, though, did she? Poe Dameron absolutely, without a doubt, existed, and so did the infirmary, and Elisabeth had _most_ _definitely_ fallen over in the mess hall. It was _home_ that wasn't real. "I don't..." Elisabeth started, scrunching up her face and placing the tip of her tongue on her top lip for a second before continuing, "I don't like it in here, Poe."

"I'll just have to get you out a little more often, then, won't I? Look, I'm out on a mission tomorrow but I want to show you the planet properly when I get back. You think you're up for that?" Elisabeth was certain, then, that she'd never met a man so full of _hope_ until Poe came along. The look on his face alone was enough to tie her stomach up in knots; did he have to stare at her that way? With his eyes all glassed over and sweet. He looked nervous in the best kind of way, the way you'd feel asking your parents for something you've been bursting with anticipation over. Elisabeth nodded her head, just as Iolo let himself into the room. 

"Yeah, she said. "Yeah, I think I'm up for that." She almost wished Iolo hadn't turned up yet, wished that it was just her and Poe having a chat. Then, she hoped, properly this time, that Poe wouldn't disappear shortly after Iolo did. The only scenario worse than sitting in that room just then would be sitting in that room _alone_ again, like she'd had to in the morning. 

"Special delivery?" Balancing a plasteel tray on one arm while BB-8 ran circles around his feet, Iolo smiled at his friend and his newfound infatuation. The sight of Elisabeth, the poor little thing, was borderline offensive - her braids had been knotted together at the back of her head to keep them away from her face, but that only revealed just how sunken in her face was - and Iolo's smile faltered for a second as a result. "I couldn't tell ya what's in this stuff, but what I _can_ say is that it tastes kriffin' terrible." 

"Thank you," she said, with an almost smile, the same almost smile she'd been giving Poe all week. "You didn't have to bring me anything." Whether she was politely chastising Iolo for going out of his way to help her or not, it pleased Poe to see her speaking more confidently than he'd seen her to someone other than himself or her doctor. And then, perhaps more selfishly, he relished in the fact that she hadn't laughed at Iolo's joke, either. She didn't find him _unfunny_ , he decided. She was just... _traumatised_. 

"When an outranking officer tells you to bring food to the infirmary, you bring food to the infirmary," he joked, cracking a grin and looking at Poe for confirmation that he was _funny_. "I'm kidding," he said, upon the realisation that neither Poe nor Elisabeth were laughing, or smiling for that matter, and he knew that he two options: explain the joke and hope it had fallen flat due to a misunderstanding, or gracefully let it go. "I'm _kidding_!" He repeated, holding his hands up. "You can't just skip dinner. I'd have done it for anyone." 

"He isn't wrong, you know?" Poe said, smiling now. "About skipping dinner, I mean. Not about how _nice_ he is." Elisabeth had decided, that day, that she _liked it_ when Poe smiled. It was a nice distraction, she kept telling herself. Something happy, something pretty to see. 

"I'll try not to." Her voice lacked conviction and authenticity, but Iolo didn't argue with her on the matter. He simply offered her a sympathetic smile while laying the tray he'd been carrying down onto the cot, close enough for Elisabeth to reach without a struggle, before resting his hand on Poe's shoulder for a moment. 

"I'll see you in the morning?" He said, to which Poe nodded and smiled. He'd nearly forgotten that they'd have to leave in less than twelve standard hours but, now that he'd been reminded, all he could think about was what Elisabeth would do while he was gone. _I don't like it in here Poe._

 _"_ Yeah, oh-seven-hundred in the hangar. No astromechs, remember." The pair nodded silently towards each other, as though no more words needed to be said, and Elisabeth found herself feeling marginally jealous for a second before the grief took over. The only people she'd ever been able to interact with in such a manner had been her sisters, and she'd never get them back. She'd never get _this_ back. 

Reaching his hand up to the door's control panel, Iolo turned to look at Elisabeth over his shoulder and said, "Hey, it might not mean much coming from me but you're doing great, kid." She'd always hated being referred to as a child, before, but it was somewhat comforting, now. If she were only a kid, she had time to work through the freighter crash her life had become. Elisabeth tried to smile, and nodded her head, whispering her gratitude. "See you around?" 

"Yeah," she said, finding herself looking forward to _seeing him around_. Like Poe, he seemed genuine, seemed to actually care whether or not she was alright. What she hadn't figure out yet, though, regarding either of the men, was _why_. Did they legitimately like her as a person? Were they just curious? She felt as though she'd never know. "I'll see you around."

"I'm sorry about today," Poe said, once Iolo had left, while BB-8 rolled circles around his feet. "I shouldn't have... I was just so excited for you to meet my friends. They'll love you, you know? I should have waited until you were a little more ready for it." Surprised, Elisabeth raised her eyes to lock with his and frowned slightly. _They'll love you, you know?_ "Don't look so shocked," he said, laughing, and Elisabeth nearly smiled simply because of the genuine happiness behind Poe's eyes. It had been a long time since she'd seen anyone _truly_ happy. 

"I fell over in front of them all," she said, scoffing quietly while pushing her food around the plate, entirely unwilling to put any of it into her mouth. It bothered him that she spoke as though stumbling in front of his friends had been a carnal sin. 

"Iolo wasn't weird with you about is, was he?" Borderline infuriated that he wasn't wrong, Elisabeth scrunched her face up in frustration and let out a short, harsh breath of air. "Exactly. They'll love you." Elisabeth simply shook her head and rolled her eyes, the way she might have done back home in the middle of a lecture about how _you can't spend your entire life locked away in your silly stories, Elisabeth. You're a princess_. When had she grown comfortable enough with this man to roll her eyes at him? When it became clear that she wasn't going to speak about it anymore, Poe nudged her foot with his own. 

"I really wish you'd eat something," He told her, his eyes pleading. The truth was, she'd spent far too long deprived of proper nutrition that she didn't really crave it anymore; her brain had been convinced, long ago, that she was _supposed_ to be this sickly and frail. "You need the energy, Elisabeth." The malnourished, arguable skeletal, girl simply shook her head and recoiled marginally away from the food. She just didn't _want_ it. 

"I'm really just not hungry," she said, hoping desperately that he'd just take her word for it and drop the subject. She was _starving_ , and she knew it. Only, her stomach had forgotten how to tell her brain, and so chewing and swallowing her food had become a terrible chore. When Poe only stared at her in response, one of his eyebrows raised slightly, she continued, "I'll try again later, I promise," and he seemed at least partially satisfied, then. 

"Alright," he sighed, moving his jaw from side to side for a second. "You wanna come help me work on BB-8? You _did_ say you wanted to get out of here, right?" As unwilling as he was, just then, to abandon Elisabeth, he didn't want to come back from that mission to a droid that still needed maintenance, especially when he was already looking forward to getting back and _resting_. 

"The... your droid you mean? I don't think I'll be very helpful." BB-8 made what Elisabeth could only deduce as miscellaneous noises, but she decided to accept them as confirmation. She couldn't remember whether or not they'd discussed it themselves, or if she'd overheard the name from somewhere else, but _bee-bee-eight_ sounded exceptionally familiar to the girl.

"By _help_ ," he said, with a guilty smile, "I mean keep me company while I fix him up." The awkward silences, he thought, where laughter was supposed to be, were becoming less and less painful with each occurrence, which was likely a good thing. Still smiling, still hoping desperately that she'd smile back eventually, Poe said, "Feet or chair?" 

" _Feet_." Her response almost came too quickly, too _sharply_. Regardless of the fact that she'd made a fool out of herself in front of potentially everyone important to Poe, and not to mention the rest of the Resistance Navy, she felt as though she had to prove to herself that she didn't need help. Probably, she did need help, but she wasn't going to admit that. Not then. 

Due to Elisabeth's injury, and her lifelong inability to multitask, the walk across base was a quiet one. Poe found it painful, for a couple of minutes, to do nothing but watch while this poor girl struggled so blatantly in front of him (especially once BB-8 had begun to whine about how long it was taking them to walk such a short distance), but decided that his feelings had been selfish. He wasn't the one truly suffering. In fact, he wasn't really suffering at all. The worst Poe was entitled to feel over this entire ordeal was sympathetic, and potentially a little guilty. Though, no amount of guilt would change what had happened, and no amount of foresight or planning on Poe's behalf could have changed the outcome of that terrible mission. Sometimes, things just _were_. 

"Are you... Do you have a curfew?" Poe asked, suddenly, once they'd arrived at his room. "I don't want to get you into trouble," he said, which was mostly true. What he hadn't told her was that he couldn't risk getting into much more trouble _himself_ if he didn't want a less than merry little meeting with his General. Elisabeth looked startled for a moment before shaking her head, uncertainty shadowing her face. She didn't _not_ have a curfew, but she didn't necessarily _have_ one either. 

"No one's said anything to me," she told him, curling her fingers into fists before relaxing them a couple of times. They couldn't just... _tell her off_ , could they? At the end of the day, she was a grown adult whether she looked like one at the time or not. But, on the other hand, they - they, pertaining to the medical staff - were not going to be pleased if she hobbled into her room at a silly hour. Surely, though, Doctor Kalonia would know that she'd be with Poe. And so, Elisabeth decided that it would be fine to stay out with him for as long as he kept her distracted and borderline happy. 

"Alright." He squinted his eyes at the girl, slightly amused that she seemed to be nervous about staying out too late. "We probably shouldn't push it but," Poe checked the comm strapped to his wrist for the time before continuing with his spiel, "I think we've got at least a couple of hours before I need to think about taking you back." Elisabeth's mouth did not move, but her eyes appeared _pleased_ and that would be enough, he'd decided, for the time being. "Go on, buddy," he said, nudging his little metal friend with his toes. "I'll be there in a second." Elisabeth watched in awe as the orange and white droid wheeled himself across to what looked like some kind of workbench and shut himself off. "You can take a seat, you know?" Poe smiled, leading Elisabeth towards the workbench and pulling out a stool for her to sit down on. 

"I don't know anything about technology," Elisabeth said, eyeing the wires spilling from BB-8's open panel. "I've never... Well we didn't really have much of it on Hynestia." She spoke too quickly, too breathlessly, for her own liking but had decided that she simply couldn't help it. Any pending responsibility she'd ever worried about had disappeared, yet her family's cruel fate had disallowed her to feel any kind of relief and the mere thought of her home planet brought both physical and emotional turmoil. 

"I'll show you how to use that datapad eventually," he told her with a smile, nudging her shoulder slightly like they'd known each other for years. It brought him far too much comfort that she didn't recoil or stare at him blankly, as though she was confused. She nodded her head, raising her hand slightly before dropping it back into her lap. 

"Poe, I need to ask you something," Elisabeth said, quietly, before proceeding to chew the skin away from her top lip. She knew it would only make it sore and cracked, but nothing she'd ever tried had kerbed the habit. Arching his brow in curiosity, Poe angled himself to face her better and placed his tools down on the bench. 

"Yeah?" She looked, for once, as though she wasn't about to cry though her features were set in what he could only describe as anger and fear. He didn't know what to expect but, then again, he never did. She could have been wanting to ask him anything, from the logistics of her future to what time he'd be visiting her next. 

"Did you... did you see them?" Poe stared at the girl for a second, not blinking, before frowning slightly. He didn't have an answer, truthfully. Yes, he knew exactly what she'd meant, and _yes_ he'd seen them. But how was he supposed to say that to her? _What_ could he say? 

"Did I see them?"

"Did you see their... Were their heads... Poe, did you see my family?" He contemplated, for a second, just lying to her and getting back to work, giving her a distraction. He couldn't do that, though, could he? If no one had seen her family's heads displayed on spikes, they couldn't have been confirmed dead; he couldn't afford to let Elisabeth succumb to such cripplingly pointless hope. In any case, he couldn't have lied to her, then. Not while she was pulling that face. There was something about the depth of her dark brown eyes that made her seem exponentially innocent, not that her size helped in that regard; he hoped she wouldn't appear so fragile once she began to gain weight. 

Not knowing what to say to her, Poe swallowed harshly and nodded his head. "Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse and sore. After clearing his throat and straightening his back slightly, Poe attempted to attach is gaze to Elisabeth's and continued, quietly, "Yes. I saw your family." She nodded her head and coughed, almost silently. As if to ask another question, she opened her mouth inquisitively, tears welling in her eyes, only to close it again and drop her eyes to the floor. 

"I should be dead," she whispered, once again resembling her mother hauntingly, staring at nothing in particular. Her eyes widened for a moment before her good knee raised to her chest and her fingers pressed against her temples. "I... I'm meant to be dead..."

"Hey, don't give me that." He was kneeling in front of her in almost an instant, wanting desperately to rest his hands on her knees but not daring to. Touching her legs briefly to pick her up, solely for medical purposes, wasn't quite the same as laying his fingers on her for comfort. He wasn't sure it would comfort her at all, in fact; it might have just made everything worse. "It's just survivor's guilt talking. You haven't done _anything_ to deserve death, Elisabeth."

"How would you know?" She asked him, smiling despite her tears and lifting her head from her knee, only far enough to see Poe's face properly. "You met me three days ago." _The first time I've ever seen her smile_ , he thought, bitterly, _and she has to be crying_. And, better yet, she was making arguments that he didn't know how to dispute.

"It doesn't matter. You think we'd have come for you if you we thought you deserved to die? No one, not even the worst of us, deserve what's happened to you, Elisabeth, and very, _very_ few people deserve to die. You will never be one of them." It wasn't so much that she felt deserving of death, but rather that she didn't have anything to live for. Her survival didn't make a difference to anyone anymore; it had been far easier to fight for her own life when she saw first-hand how the fear of her impending demise affected her family. She had no family to mourn for her, then. Poe might have missed her, she thought feebly, for a day or two, or however long it would take for him to forget her. "I know enough to tell you that you should _not_ be dead." When she never responded, he reached a tentative hand to brush his thumb over her cheek and said, quietly, "Hey, if _you're_ meant to be dead, I should have been shot in the back of the head years ago," but he regretted it once he realised that she, once again, was not going to smile. She did, though, turn her eyes up from the floor to meet his own. He could accept that, he thought. He could accept seeing, in her eyes, that she was truly starting to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't edited this bc i am DRUNK but i love u all thank u v much
> 
> edit: I've edited it now lmao I'm very sorry, i don't even remember writing some of it


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